


Pour Some Sugar On Me

by Delta_Immortal



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive!sheriff, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Condoms, Cowgirl Position, Escort!Derek, First Time, Luxury, M/M, Modern day!AU, Money, Panic Attacks, Past Rape/Non-con, Rape Aftermath, Suits, UST, Unresolved Sexual Tension, alive!hale family, billionaire!Stiles, did I mention lots of sexual tension, escort!Erica, extravagance, heated touches, human!AU, no on-screen rape, no protagonists are raped, romancing, sex worker!Derek, soft gazes, sugar babies, sugarbaby!Derek, sugardaddy!Stiles, suit!Derek, suit!stiles, terrible lyric chapter titles, virgin!stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-11
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-02-08 10:41:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 14
Words: 73,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1937856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delta_Immortal/pseuds/Delta_Immortal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek is a highly successful sugar baby and escort in the local area. He’s got clients lined up and he's got money in the bank. He's good at what he does. He plays sweet and hard and fast, giving his time and smiles in exchange for cash and favors. He lives by three rules: No salt, no bad vibes, and no falling in love. </p><p>Enter billionaire Stiles Stilinski. Derek's world is about to turn upside down.</p><p> </p><p>...<br/>(See the first note for warning and tag explanations- no rape or non con actually appear in this fic.) (Chapter 7 has been rewritten!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Easy operator come a knockin' on my door

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Welcome to the first and hopefully only note for further reading! We have some tags to discuss before we get started!
> 
> Rape Tag: Our protagonists will assist a rape victim immediately after the victim was raped in a later chapter. There’s also mentions of previous nonconsensual situations that have happened to a character in the past. No rape happens onscreen, nor to our protagonists in this story.
> 
> Pairings: Derek is both a sugar baby and an escort. Derek has sex with other characters. However, because this is a Sterek fic, I have chosen to keep all sex (but Sterek sex) offscreen. I have not tagged the other pairings; in this fic sex does not equal a pairing, whereas falling in love does.
> 
> Rating: Due to the nature of Derek’s jobs and Erica’s job, I’ve just bumped the rating to explicit (but again, the sex with clients is not onscreen). However, I wrote this fic to be an UST fic. It’ll be a while before explicit sex. 
> 
> Derek’s jobs: Derek is both a sugar baby and an escort. They are two very different job. I attempt to explain the difference in the first chapter, but a reminder that they are not the same. 
> 
> Sex Work: I wanted to write a fic where Derek was Stiles’s sugar baby. I have attempted to write this fic as realistically as I can by reading blogs, tumblrs, books and interviews written by real life sex workers and sugar babies. The sex work Derek and Erica do in this story is not the same as survival sex work or sexual exploitation. Those topics will be presented in this fic, but in later chapters.
> 
> ~fin~

With eight hundred dollars in his pocket, Derek Hale was a very satisfied man. He couldn’t say he was happy. He hadn’t really been happy since ten years ago. But he _could_ say he was content with his life. He had freedom, independence, a great loft apartment with an equally wonderful roommate, two jobs that introduced him to a variety of colorful and interesting people, and currently he had enough money saved away from those jobs to live comfortably for two years.

This was a great job. Derek couldn’t think of many other jobs that gave him eight hundred dollars for two hours of work. Checking the time, he pulled out his phone and sent a text to his roommate Erica.

 **Message To** : Erica

I’m fine. Headed home now.

**End Message**

Derek pocketed his phone, fingers nearly buzzing with the excitement of eight hundred dollars for tonight. Deucalion had always tipped well, but tonight took the cake.

The taxi driver seemed to pick up on his contentment, looking back at him. “Good night, huh?” the man asked with a knowing smile.

Derek nodded back. He didn’t break out into a smile anymore in life, though when the job demanded it he could produce the unfamiliar sensation. Lights flickered across on the window as the cab drove on. Mesmerized by the lights, Derek thought back to his job tonight, glad Deucalion didn’t ever demand smiling from him. Deucalion demanded lots of things from him, more emotional and mental than physical, but he  never demanded smiling.

The taxi driver continued speaking. “Boyfriend?” he asked. Derek frowned for a moment before remembering Deucalion saw him to the taxi, gentleman that he was.

“No,” Derek informed the taxi driver. “I don’t have a boyfriend.” That much was true. Derek hadn’t been officially with anyone for about nine years.

“Oh? Why not?” The driver asked.

Derek shrugged. “No time,” he answered honestly. “Business keeps me busy.” That was true. “I’ve got classes to prepare for in the fall.” Also true. No need to tell the taxi driver that his business was escorting and his classes were on a different career path all together.

“Too bad,” the driver continued. “What sort of man do you want to love?”

Derek threw his head back, not really wanting to answer the question. What sort of man? “One who isn’t so experienced in the world,” he answered. “Smart, sure. Maybe a little socially awkward- he can’t be too perfect. But still full of that optimism that things are always good.”

The driver laughed, probably relating to Derek. Both were weary men in the ways of the world. Derek continued. “Runner. Fit. Strong forearms. That’s a thing.”

The taxi driver nodded. “Good, good. I prefer husky men myself,” he announced. Derek’s eyes raised at the driver’s blatant tone but he nodded appreciatively. “You like that man you’re seeing?” The driver asked him.

Ugh. Personal questions. Derek hated talking. “Not sure I’ll be seeing him for too much longer,” Derek admitted. It wasn’t like the taxi driver was going to reveal this information or knew who Derek was, so he answered honestly. “He wants me to submit. I don’t like it.”

The driver raised an eyebrow this time. “Why do it then?”

Derek shrugged. “Pays well.”

“Ah,” The driver murmured and focused on the road. When no more questions came, Derek knew he’d been left to silence and uncomfortable thoughts.

Derek sighed. Normally, he never submitted. With his figure, muscles, and features most clients assumed he wouldn’t submit or bottom. That worked out for Derek. Deucalion, on the other hand, was a man who liked to be in control. He’d introduced scenarios so subtly during their time together, Derek couldn’t find issue with them. Deucalion hardly ever rose a hand against Derek and never used dominance in a physical way. Those were Derek’s main frustrations Derek could accept that. At least for now, anyway.

The taxi rolled to a stop, dragging Derek out of his thoughts. Right now, Deucalion wasn’t the perfect client for an escort like Derek, but he paid eight hundred dollars for two hours. That was good money. Deucalion was a steady and trusted client, both excellent things. Derek reached into his wallet and pulled out more than enough for the trip and tip, giving the guy a nod again. The taxi driver grinned and waved goodbye as Derek left the vehicle, placing his wallet back in his rear pocket.

The cool night air pressed against Derek’s exposed skin, but his suit kept him nice and warm. Derek wondered what he looked like to his neighbors. Maybe a well dressed man coming back from a party, or a business show.

The reality was that Derek had just finished his escorting job and was home for the night. He looked forward to a good workout after all that teasing and maybe finding a couple more clients just in case things with Deucalion started to go downhill. It never hurt to be prepared.

His gut told him they would soon. Derek had been in the business long enough to know to listen to his gut. Derek took one last breath of air before typing in the apartment key code and entering the building. The inside was sparse but well lit, a good thing. As he moved to the stairs, his phone buzzed in his pocket.

Speak of the devil. Derek checked the message though he already knew what it would say, flipping up the phone and pressing the Google Voice app to check his texts.

 **Message From:** Deucalion

This past meeting was really exceptional, Erek. Thanks again for the great time. Wish I could see you more. Until we next meet, take care.

**End Message**

Derek scoffed. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to see more of Deucalion. Right now, he had about as much as he was able to do with the guy. Tonight’s meeting had gone well, but reinforced the nagging feeling that Deucalion would be pressing for more soon. Derek paused, finger hovering over his phone. He could end things. He didn’t _need_ to see Deucalion.

On the other hand, it was summer right now, which meant slow times for business. Most of his clients were on vacation. Derek didn’t want to tap into his nest egg if he could help it.

Maybe he should try and find another sugar mama or daddy; most often preferred cute twinks in Derek’s experience but occasionally he’d met someone that was willing to provide. All Derek had to do was flirt, flash fake smiles, and listen attentively.

Derek quickly typed back a response. Right now, his business sense said, keep Deucalion and don’t drop him or insult him until that next person was found. He was a great sex worker and had enough clients, both men and women. Or he could do what he’d been aiming to do recently and get a little more involved in the Bowl.

 **Message To** : Deucalion

I also had a great time. Thanks again for the memories.

\- Erek

**End message**

At the last minute Derek added a “sir” after “time”, remembering Deucalion liked him being submissive. He groaned. It was little things like that that worried Derek. Submission was something he had to actively think about. He left the second sentence untouched and decided against using the “master” that Deucalion had wanted earlier in the night. He’d spent enough time with the man to know Deucalion would take a thrill in the idea that he hadn’t completely broken Derek down, that Derek would still challenge him and tease him before ultimately submitting.

If there was no challenge, it wasn’t worth Deucalion’s time.

Derek sighed and pocketed the phone. If it meant eight hundred dollars for a two-hour session, Derek would gladly shove his feelings aside once or twice a month. That was his final decision, Derek reasoned, though he still planned to seek out new clients tonight.

Eight hundred in the bank. Derek felt good. It was good money to be had, especially when his other regulars were out of town for the summer. Which meant less money but more free time. Maybe he could use the free time for finding more sugar daddies.

He’d always preferred sugaring to escorting. Sugaring was more like dating, more like being someone’s secret boyfriend rather than escorting. There were gifts to be had, places to go, and lots of men to learn from. The only downside was he had to keep entertaining. Sugar daddies didn’t want drama, or frustration. They wanted to have a good time with beautiful company and it was Derek’s job to provide that.

Male sugar babies weren’t nearly as in demand as female ones, probably due to most CEOs being older straight men. That also explained why there weren’t nearly so many sugar mamas. Still, it was worth a shot to try and seek out another sugar daddy. With this in mind, Derek opened the door to his loft apartment.

The TV blared from further down the hall which was more welcoming than he thought would be tonight. Derek turned on the lights, ignoring the grumpy sound that came from the human parked in front of the television. His reflection stared back at him from the hallway mirrors as he locked the door behind him, placing his keys on the small key holder next to the door. It was good to be home.

He passed by his room and the weight room area before plopping down on the sofa next to Erica, eyeing her apple suspiciously. She never liked to eat after a job, or watch TV. She liked to sleep.

“Welcome home, roomie,” she muttered, taking a bite. She knew he’d noticed. Derek didn’t press, letting her tell him in her own time, sitting in silence as he grabbed and squeezed her ankle reassuringly.

He decided to offer first. “Deucalion wanted me to submit again,” he murmured. “But eight hundred.”

Erica whistled. “Wow,” she uttered, not looking at him. “But if you’re mentioning it to me, there’s something worrying you about it.”

Derek shrugged. Erica raised an eyebrow at him, but she knew enough to let it go for now. Sighing, she turned down the TV, turning to Derek. He scanned her face for bruises or redness, but nothing. She hadn’t been physically hurt.

“Nothing bad, Mr. Alpha-of-the-house,” she teased. “It was mostly a good night. Started with Boyd, then Isaac, but the last guy was sour.”

Derek paled. The last time things went sour he had to play bodyguard for Erica. She shook her head at his face. “Nothing like that. He was a ‘white knight’. Talked about saving me, rescuing me. Got a little frustrated when I didn’t play along with his fantasy and agree to be rescued right away.”

Derek raised an eyebrow. A little frustrated? He wanted to ask, but Erica took another bite of her apple, red lipstick not even smearing. She looked stunning after all the hours she’d spent working.

“Just frustrated, at the end. I think he decided I was in too deep and it’d take more time to convince me.” Erica sighed. “He didn’t even tip or anything. Fucker.”

Relief flooded through Derek, glad she wasn’t injured or hurt. She blew a raspberry at him. “You big worrywort,” she said. “You know I’ll call you if things ever get really bad?”

Derek let go of her ankle. “Or you won’t send your text, and I’ll be there within minutes,” Derek repeated. “Though I might send a SWAT team instead.”

Erica laughed, pulling him into a hug. “You take good care of me, Derek,” she uttered, hugging him tightly. “I’m glad you’re my roomie, even if you are a worrywort.”

Derek couldn’t argue with that. He’d seen too much, had too many bad experiences not to be a worrywort. Erica was new, though sharp. He hoped she’d be able to avoid a lot of his early pitfalls.

Derek looked back at the TV, watching this strange show about werewolf teenagers. “Will you see him again?”

Erica shrugged. “I dunno,” she answered. “I’m going to sleep on that thought. Trust my gut, like you say. Probably not.”

They continued staring at the TV for a few minutes as Erica chewed thoughtfully on her apple. Finally Erica managed to blurt out her own pointed question. “What about you?”

Derek sighed; he knew this was coming. She never dropped topics; she only pretended to do that so she could ask them when he least expected them.

“Eh. It’s Duke. He tipped well, so I’ve got $800 for tonight.” He adjusted himself on the sofa as Erica softly clapped. “Most of it was a roleplay- me, the innocent young guy who comes in and Deucalion shows me the pleasures of submission.” He shrugged. “He spanked me, but that’s about as violent as it gets. He’s more on edgeplay or furniture play, really.” Derek thought. “Sometimes body worship.”

Erica nodded, comparing it to her own list. “I wish Kali wasn’t so rough,” she admitted, “but it’s fun with her, so…” she shrugged.

They sat, knowing both of their clients wouldn’t be permanent, but it was good right now. Derek liked these moments with Erica. She was a friend, a trusted fellow escort who understood where he was coming from. Even when their experiences were different, it was good to know someone else in the business, a support net for each other.

Derek patted her ankle again. “Gotta go search for Pots before my workout,” he announced. Erica cheered him on as he made his way back to his bedroom, glad he couldn’t really make out the words she was saying about his ass.

Minimal described his bedroom best. A closet for his suits, a bed to sleep on, a bookshelf, and a desk- these were all the things Derek felt he required to be comfortable. The bookshelf doubled as a safe. Many of his books were empty on the inside, perfect places to store loot. The man only shot a brief glance at two photos on the shelf. The upright photo was of him and Erica hanging out, while the face-down photo was of a different time. Derek turned away and focused on his computer instead.

While his computer booted up, he pulled out an old book from his shelf and opened the cover, pages falling open to reveal a safe within them. Derek input his code, calming as the door swung open. He placed six hundred of his eight hundred inside the safe, leaving the other two hundred for whatever he might need in his wallet. He shut the safe and replaced the book, turning to the now-bright screen and saw his face in the reflection.

His face had changed a lot since he was sixteen.

Derek ignored his face and double clicked on his web browser. It didn’t take long for him to open the familiar sugaring websites. Though he had accounts for three of them, he only had one new message between the three. Derek sighed, looking through the profiles of new sugar daddies (or salt daddies, he noted as he stared at one man’s 60k income, who the fuck did that man think he was kidding), messaging a few who seemed promising, updating his profile, and finally coming back to his one message.

There was no pic next to the username. The spelling in the subject and message were terrible. He had negative thoughts already, but Jennifer, his current sugar mama had contacted him under similar circumstances. And Jennifer now paid him 3k a month.

Derek allowed himself to read the message.

 **Message From:** unpronouncable

Hy, ur rlly sxy and I’m not used to this but I wuz wondrng if u wanted to go 2 a party? I hav sum eventz I need to have a date 2 and I thought you’d like to come?

**End message**

Derek winced. This didn’t sound at all like a great sugar daddy. This sounded like a man Derek didn’t want to have anything to do with, not even as an escort. He wasn’t that desperate, was he?

He clicked on the profile.

Nothing redeeming stood out at him. Just an incredibly high pay that was likely to be bullshit. Information on his profile didn’t seem to match up. The guy claimed he was a realtor in rural Missouri and he’d be by Derek’s location and wanted someone to play with. No rural realtor could make that much cash, Derek knew.

He winced. This would be a terrible guy. Everything about this guy screamed “avoid”. Sugar babying wasn’t about playing around- it was about companionship, a relationship, and patronship. It wasn’t sex or money for sex; that was escorting. Derek frowned.

Against his better judgment, he sent a reply, a last chance sort of deal. There was nothing better to do.

 **Message To:** unpronouncable

Hello! I would be interested in a mutually agreeable situation with you, provided you can give me more details? Usually the sugaring I’ve been involved with is more one-on-one dating rather than party going. What sort of things other than events are you looking for in a relationship?

**End Message**

He clicked send, expecting the man would be asleep by this time. Most normal people were.

He sent another few quick e-mails and updated his profile before a ding informed him of a response.

 **Message From:** unpronouncable

I wanna see a pic first, prve 2 me ur real.

**End Message**

Derek rolled his eyes and hit the “ignore” button. Salty fucker. If he wanted a pic of Derek, Derek had better be getting a picture of a bank account. He huffed a bit, glaring at his computer screen. He hoped the guy didn’t try to contact him again through another account.

Groaning, the man looked over at his clock. There was enough time to do a quick workout before he needed to head to bed, and before Erica went to bed. She complained she could hear him move from her bedroom if he worked out too late at night.

He looked back at the e-mails, remembering that he hadn’t even been trying. Now with an updated profile and hopefully more profile pictures soon, interest would pick up. Derek pulled himself from the chair and moved out into the main hallway, headed for the kitchen next to the windows.

“No interest,” Derek announced, turning on the tap and reaching for a glass. He could see Erica’s reflection in the microwave, noting her sad face as she turned to look at him.

“Sorry to hear it,” she commiserated, turning the TV off. Derek shrugged nonchalantly, frown still present on his face. “I hate the slow summer.”

He nodded his agreement, drinking down the liquid. Summer was too slow. There were too many people on trips, on vacations having fun without him. He was lucky he still had Deucalion and Jennifer; Jennifer was a solid 3k a month, while he met with Deucalion maybe once or twice a month- good money all around. When his regulars kicked in, it was good income.

Derek was good at managing money. He’d taught Erica a lot about it, knew when to keep it, when to invest it, when to spend. It was better to save and stay afloat than need money desperately. Right now, Derek was glad he didn’t need money that desperately. If Deucalion had his way he and Derek would meet maybe three times a week. Jennifer would keep him by her side forever if she could.

This way was better. Derek’s way, he had some sort of independence. He had the ability to say no. Derek loved the ability to say no.

Finished, he set the glass down, rolling his head around in a stretch. “I’m gonna go work out,” he announced, more so that Erica knew he’d be moving around. Erica nodded and turned the TV on again to watch her show about teenage werewolves. And werefoxes now. And werecoyotes.

Derek looked away from the screen. _What weird nonsense_ , he thought, heading back to his room.

When he entered his room, he carefully took off his suit, noting he’d have to get it dry-cleaned and pressed tomorrow. He’d tried to take it off with care earlier, but Deucalion had a fetish for Derek in a suit, leading him around on all fours with a tie.

To be honest, Derek agreed that he was _very_ sexy in a suit. It flattered him, made his legs look long, his ass look scrumptious, and his chest look wide. It was his seduction suit. Deucalion had even specifically asked for it tonight. Derek allowed himself a small smile, remembering a passerby who had walked straight into a light pole looking at him in the suit.

He puffed out his chest a little in the mirror, smiling as he realized he’d forgotten to replace the tie. Shoot. It was either with Deucalion or he’d left it in the hotel. He frowned. He liked that tie.

The suit draped over the hangers well and Derek was glad for his first sugar daddy, the one who taught him about how to properly hang suits. They’d broken up after six months but Derek learned so much about how to impress he couldn’t be upset over the breakup. He placed a garment bag over the hangers and placed them up in his closet, adding a sticky note to remind himself to take them to the cleaners tomorrow.

The suit put away, Derek pulled out his basketball shorts of a small pile of workout clothes. There was no point in wearing a shirt, so he didn’t bother reaching for that. The shorts were a little too small, Derek thought as he pulled them up, but they worked for him, especially when clients or his sugar mama Jennifer wanted pictures of him sweaty and flushed after a workout. The shorts had brought him sweet, sweet cash and that’s all Derek required in his clothing.

Erica loved being his photographer during those photos as well.

Derek flexed his arm in the mirror, approving of his current fitness. Deucalion had left a couple of marks on his chest but nothing that another lover wouldn’t do. It would heal. Deucalion liked marking him up but didn’t want anything permanent, for which Derek was grateful. His hands reached up to a familiar scar on his chest as his eyes dropped down to look at the small circle right in the center of his pecs. The protruding chest muscles served to hide it somewhat, but Derek could always find it.

Occasionally a client would note it and Derek just flexed his muscles to distract them. He flexed his pecs in memory of one open-mouthed man and his muscles drew his attention away from his scar. Amused, Derek focused on his upcoming workout. His ass was too tired for anything lower body, but he could stick to upper body workouts tonight and it wouldn’t be a total routine disaster.

Derek turned away from the mirror and moved to his computer again, this time checking his escorting e-mail for clients. Only one message: a recommendation from another escort about a potential new client. He clicked it open.

 **Message From:** Samuel.

Hi, Erek! This is Sam!

Ennis is vry pushy about not having condoms. Last time we met he insisted on brebk. I sent him away and refunded him. I can’t rec him to you (I have no idea y he asked me 2 talk 2 u, tbh). He’spushy and grabby and he needs lots of physical exhersion. Avoid him.

Best of luck to you! Thanks for your recommendation about Danny!

**End Message**

Derek sighed. He’d had a suspicion about why-do-you-want-me-to-bring-you-new-tests-Ennis but he’d hoped it was just regular tough-guy awkwardness. Another potential client down. He shut his laptop and moved out into the hallway where the home-made gym waited for him.

Hoping to clear his head, Derek warmed up with his circuit today: pushups, pull-ups, ab crunches, planks.  His mind was focused and it felt great straining against his body, constantly going around and around, moving, working up a sweat. He didn’t have to think, focusing on just one more pushup, focusing on one more second for the plank, feeling his muscles burn and ache as if he hadn’t used them before.

Working out was the best relief for life.

But in the breaks during his circuits, the minutes where he just had time to think, he found his thoughts back to his two current clients. Deucalion took a lot out of him mentally. It wasn’t in his nature to be submissive, so not talking back meant a lot of biting his cheek. But it wasn’t _real_ BDSM submission as far as Derek was concerned, so he thought he could deal with that. And Deucalion was one of those clients who teased, finished, but made the session more about impressing Derek than about Deucalion’s own pleasure or climax, something Derek appreciated. Derek could never say Deucalion was a selfish lover.

Pushups. His muscles throbbed with how he threw himself onto his arms, trying to clap in between each ones on this last set. He finished twenty and moved to plank, trying to lift one foot in the air this time and hold still. The last circuit was always the exhaustion circuit. He moved to ab crunches, fueled by endorphins and felt sweat drip down his back as he lifted, knowing it trailed right along his tattoo.

Erica walked by and gave him a wolf whistle. Derek nearly broke out of his last crunch, tempted to throw something at her. She knew better than to distract him while he was working out.

His arms strained and tensed as he finished his last pull up set, body rigid as another wash of endorphins crashed around him. Sweat dripped down both his front and back now, arms pushed to exhaustion. He let go of the bar and collapsed to the floor, just sitting for a couple of minutes to let his muscles rest.

Deucalion was _not_ a selfish lover. Unlike Jennifer. Jennifer demanded. _Lift me against this wall, Derek,_ she’d whisper as her nails would dig against his skin. _Please me for another hour, Derek_ , she’d demand, though he was tired from everything else she’d made him do on earlier that night.

Jennifer paid excellent money and gave him excellent things. She wasn’t salty. But it took a lot of work, strength, and stamina to keep her pleased. She exhausted him so much he couldn’t have bookings for two days after seeing her.

Lifting. Derek moved to lifting.

Jennifer wasn’t evil, and he was glad for it. Derek stopped thinking about his situation with Jennifer as he arranged the dumbbell plates for his arms and shoulders. It sucked having to move all of the plates, but he couldn’t afford a whole set of dumbbells. Plates were cheaper and easier to move and they didn’t take up much space. Jennifer wouldn’t buy him a set, either, which was really why he didn’t have more dumbbells. She wanted to watch when he worked out, which meant taking him to her fancy gym as she turned his workouts into something that were not upper-arm focused exercises.

His arms moved up and down, not yet straining with the weight, though they did shake a little from his previous excursion. Muscles tightened and bulged in ways Derek knew clients found particularly attractive- one had just paid to watch him train, once, without any insistence on public sex, which had been a great experience for both of them. Derek hadn’t been sure there would be enough time to train that day, so it was a pleasant surprise.

Derek relaxed, having finished his first sets of exercises. He had five more to do his free moments were spent attaching weights, thinking back to good experiences.

Most of his escorting clients were just lonely people wanting to talk. There were a couple of super hot people, but other than that, it was pretty standard work. He found sugar daddies and mamas more interesting to him, mostly because there was more time spent together.

He’d always been a good sugar baby though most who saw him daily might not understand why. Derek knew when to pour on charm and smile or exactly how attractive his body was. It took him a while to understand more intricate parts of flirting: touching, listening, etc, but he’d learned quickly enough that a pretty face and body were not going to be enough if he wanted to last long in the Bowl. He’d set up his three rules: no salt, no bad vibes, and no love. Those rules had kept him out of a lot of bad situations.

Jennifer was an okay sugar mama- she was getting cheaper, wanting more from Derek than she was providing for. Their conversations were dying down, as well, a clear sign they’d lost interest in each other, which was never good for sugar relationships. Nothing remained but the sex. Within a month or two, Derek expected one of them would call it off.

Ideally, he’d like someone to sugar him who could keep talking, preferably more than Derek did, because he hated when he forced himself to talk. Usually Daddies could pick up on when he was forcing himself and it made things awkward and uninteresting.

Derek grunted, starting the third set. This was a burn he could use today.

So, a sugar daddy who could talk. A sugar mama wouldn't be bad, either, just there weren’t that many. Definitely a sugar daddy who liked sex, but one who would let Derek lead. Derek could use a little bit of leading in his life right now. Maybe a newbie to the bowl, as those were easy to manipulate and still wowed with the whole experience of sugaring. Though newbies did tend to fall in love and love was dangerous in the bowl.

Derek also wanted like a daddy who was loaded but that was a given for any sugar daddy.

Derek smirked, arms really burning now as he did his final set, breath coming in pants, thoughts stopping to focus on the final push upwards, final exercise, final set. His hands were shaking as sweat dripped from his skin. He held his arms high, watching them shake violently before coming down, setting the weights safely on the mats he’d bought with the money from his first meeting with Jennifer.

He’d saved his money well. A lot of it was still cash, as he didn’t want the IRS to notice bank account statement irregularities. But he had enough to last for two years or so if needed. That thought comforted Derek. He knew he couldn’t keep up his body physique forever, and eventually the jobs would start winding down.

Right now he wanted to pursue a career in marketing, currently working on his major in school in the fall. Though he was twenty six, it was never too early to start a good career. His work already gave him lots of life-hand experience with marketing, to be sure.

He let out a groan, body tired, muscles aching, head spinning with an endorphin rush. It was a great feeling. He was sweaty and flushed and looked a lot like he did after seriously vigorous sex. His muscles had been used to their fullest potential and Derek was pleased about that. Things were accomplished today.

For a moment Derek debated taking a sweaty profile pic. Guys tended to eat those up.

Quietly he looked around outside of the small gym room hoping to spot Erica, but he noted the TV was off. Erica had probably moved upstairs. Knowing his roommate liked to use the workout space in the mornings, he moved his weights back to their original starting position and freed up the space.

He walked to the kitchen, grabbing himself another drink of water and downing it instantly. Preparing to go back to his room, he filled the glass a second time and walked back to his doorway. Looking up at Erica’s room, Derek leaned over to turn off the hallway lights- Erica had her own set of lights upstairs, so he wasn’t concerned that she’d fall off the mezzanine.

It was routine. Derek liked routine.

He looked up at Erica’s light underneath her door, content with how things had worked out. Erica was family to him. He didn’t love her romantically, of course (that had been an awkward discussion where both of them assumed the other was infatuated), but he did care for her like a sister. And Erica cared for him like a brother. Their relationship was good.

It was enough for Derek. A happy family, a good job- these things made him happy. So what if he didn’t have love Mr. Taxi driver? He had contentment. He gave a little wish for her safety as he looked at Erica’s door before finally entering his room, locking it shut behind him.

His room was cool, laptop shut. He opened it, drinking as he looked over his sugaring messages one last time before showering and turning off electronics for the evening.

One brand-new message lay in his inbox. Derek clicked.

This guy’s picture was cute. Cute and young.

Maybe too young, but Derek could get behind cute. From the shape of the guy, he was definitely Derek’s type: clean-shaven, slightly effeminate, but with really nice forearms that had probably soaked up all of the testosterone from the guy’s face.

Derek remembered his words to the taxi driver. This guy fit those words to a T. He wasn’t built, but he was fit, shoulders and chest wide, buff enough to enforce the “fit” idea. Derek licked his lips. If anything, he was glad to have a picture so even if this contact was a failure, Derek’d have something to jack off to tomorrow. He chugged the last of his water sat the glass down, daring to look at the e-mail.

He had a good feeling. That same electric spark he’d had when he found Deucalion, or Jennifer, or when he just saw Marvin and had an entire day of shopping.

 **Message From** : Stiles

Hello, Erek! I’m currently looking for someone in an arrangement. I’m looking for someone to accompany me on business trips and events (maybe around 4 a month). You’d meet lots of people in my business, which is in software design. I’d like for you to act as a general boyfriend. I’m really shy and not dating anyone currently and that’s why I’m looking for someone right now.

On your profile you mention you’re looking for a benefactor while you adjust to your new job in marketing. I have a couple of contacts at McCall firm, and I’m aware that trips and events often require a little more money for prep. I’d like to help you out, and I feel this arrangement would be very agreeable to the two of us.

Please drop me a line either through this message or my Skype account at StilesXXXX.

Looking forward to meeting and supporting you in the future,

Stiles

**End Message**

Derek raised an eyebrow. Well, this was a nice change. The message read very similar to e-mails Derek would send. It looked like this Pot had actually read his profile, given that he used Derek’s fake name and had a basic idea of what Derek wanted to do in the future. The McCall firm was a quite famous marketing firm, the best in their field. Derek would be lying if he said he wasn’t interested in meeting those people.

On the other hand, promises were cheap. People on the internet often lied and catfished and all sorts of terrible things. Derek knew the feeling of disappointment of a Pot being salty all too well.

He looked over at the guy’s profile- a young, lean thing. Young wasn’t bad, but it was unlikely he had the money that Derek was looking for. It was a good red flag for a fake profile.

Derek eyed his business: computer software, as Stiles said in his message. The previous feeling of hesitation began to melt away. Many young people were involved in software production. And the guy made more than a million a year. He could easily afford Derek.

Derek continued looking, noticing the man’s profile was new. Another warning. Almost too new.

The sugar baby bit his lip, trying to decide if it’d be worth it or not to mail him back. His thoughts went back to the salty guy earlier. Stiles was leagues more promising than this guy.

Still sweaty, Derek sat down in the chair, his fingers typing a message right away, brain spinning with how much he’d need to have this be worth it. He might as well go ahead and aim high or go home. If there were four events a month, plus probably meetups between just this Stiles guy and him… maybe 4k? Derek bit his lip. He didn’t need the 4k, but he didn’t really believe this guy, either. 4k or 5k would be nice. He’d be making contacts, going to events and whatnot. That was important. Maybe this Stiles guy didn’t want meetups either, or they could have less of them.

Derek had his strategy before him.

 **Message To** : Stiles

Stiles,

Thank you for your message!

This certainly sounds like an arrangement I would be interested in, however, I do have some concerns about what would be agreeable for the two of us.

With that being said, I look forward to hearing from you.

Erek

**End Message**

Derek wiped his face again, hitting the send button. Whelp. This might not be lucrative after all. He stood up, grabbing his shower towel when his computer dinged with another message.

 **Message From:** Stiles

Erek,

I’m a little short on time; would you mind having a one-on-one conversation in about an hour? Of course, I would compensate you for your time, and I don’t expect to see your face. I’d rather get everything hashed out immediately.

Stiles

**End Message**

Derek pressed his lips together. Very suspect.

He typed one of his parachute e-mail accounts and suggested a five hundred dollar gift card for Stiles to prove he was interested. Then Derek typed one of his alternate Skype IDs, offering a couple of times he’d be available, including thirty minutes from the current time. With lightning speed he clicked the message and jumped into the shower.

Under the hot spray of water, Derek shook his head. If he had to, he could abandon the accounts, though he was hoping the guy wouldn’t be such a creeper. But he couldn’t help preparing for the worst. He had too many e-mail accounts now anyway, all from a time when he had far too many clients. He’d done away with most now, hoping to sugar rather than escort. Sugaring was usually much more fun for him.

Water dripped over his muscles in the shower as he relaxed, cleaning himself thoroughly. Soap lathered over his skin as weariness foamed underneath it. Derek would be glad to get back into his soft bed. Shower finished, Derek grabbed his towel and dried off, walking back to his bedroom.

He tossed the towel on the bed and moved his laptop with him as he lay down on the soft mattress. He’d be too tired after this to even bother getting up. Sighing, he checked his e-mail for an angry response or something, but rather, there were two e-mails, one from Stiles and one from Amazon.

Derek clicked the Amazon e-mail.

His mouth fell open as he read it. Stiles had sent him five _thousand_ dollars. Surely that had been a mistake. Surely that had been an extra zero, but a zero in Derek’s favor. He quickly clicked the e-mail, expecting Stiles to ask for the money back, but no. Nothing.

Stiles hoped he enjoyed the money and hoped to see him in what would now be fifteen minutes.

Derek swallowed. 5k was change to this guy? How desperate was he?

On the other hand, he quickly typed an e-mail to Erica and explained they’d be getting that new sofa she was interested in. He turned on his Skype and waited, fingers twitching.

Who the hell was this Stiles? Derek hit Google and typed in Stiles’s username, but Stiles had been smart. The name had no other ties. Nor did the name “Stiles”; there were no hits. Nothing on this mysterious man. Not even a reverse image search could find the picture.

“Stiles” sounded familiar, though, like Derek knew someone named Stiles. Derek frowned, thinking. He couldn’t remember anybody that young. Stiles looked like he was younger than all of the men and women he’d ever slept with. Stiles was much more young than Derek was, so there was no way he would have been part of Kate’s group of people.

Derek swallowed. “That time is over,” he reminded himself, fighting the panic that was welling up inside of him.

Ten minutes left.

Derek checked his normal e-mail, reading a response from Erica. She was extremely excited. Derek smiled. Good.

Five minutes.

He hadn’t been this nervous in a long time. A good sign.

Four minutes.

At one minute, a contact request popped up. As soon as Derek accepted the request, Stiles called.

Derek waited a minute before answering. He didn’t want to seem too eager. “Hello?” Derek began, cautiously.

“Hello, Erek?” came the other voice. It didn’t resemble anything like Derek was expecting. Stiles’s voice was light, cautious, and a little flighty. Derek pursed his lips as that voice tore through him.

He would definitely be jacking off to Stiles’s picture later.

“That’s me,” Derek began. “I want to thank you for your gift, earlier,” he added, not sure if he should say “generous” and admit to being impressed, or pretend that he wasn’t. He always erred on the side of wasn’t.

“Ah, no problem. I accidentally typed in another zero, but hey, that’s my issue, right?” Stiles gave a humorless chuckle that seemed more nervous than anything.

Ah. Okay. Not intentional.

“I can refund-“

“No, no, no. Keep it,” Stiles continued smoothly, eagerly, and his tone suggested very much that Stiles wanted Derek to keep it. “Don’t worry about it.” The man inhaled a breath.

Derek bit his lip. This is where things had to stay professional.

“So. About our arrangement,” Stiles continued. “I think a meetup first would be a good idea. How does _Pastella’s_ sound?”

Ritzy. Stiles was giving him class off the bat. “It sounds good, but how about _Bella Italia_?” Derek began. “That one’s a little closer to my home. Or there’s _El Azteca_ , if you like Mexican.”

Stiles tapped his fingers against the desk. “How about the first one, _Italia_? 11:30 work for you?”

“Sounds great,” Derek added, relieved knowing Stiles wouldn’t have some sort of inner coupon or knowings with the staff. And _Italia_ was as expensive as _Pastella’s_ , so Stiles wasn’t skimping out on him.

“Cool. I’ll book it for us and send you a copy of the invitation.” Stiles hummed over the mic. Derek wasn’t sure how he felt about all of Stiles’s movements. It was like he could hear everything. On the other hand, Derek just gained an additional 5k tonight, so he wasn’t going to knock it.

Holy crap. Today was great. He might even drop Deucalion if Stiles turned out to be the sweetest sugar daddy ever. Sexy, loaded, and fun. Surely there would be something wrong, but if Jennifer was any indication, Derek could keep a sugar daddy interested for a long time.

“Thank you,” Derek began. “Uh, you mentioned something about parties and the like? Are you okay with-“

“Oh, yeah! I noticed you’re a little older than I am,” Stiles interrupted, taking control of the conversation. Derek was glad for it. “And I know that’s weird and young guys like me don’t usually have much money, but I promise you, I’ve got enough to take care of anything you want. I mean it. Like, if you want a motorcycle-surf-boat, I can get that for you.”

Derek raised an eyebrow. Stiles sounded sincere. But then again…

“I was hoping for someone a little more… experienced than me,” Stiles added hesitantly. “In the dating area. Not like sex or anything. But I’ve… I’ve not really had time to date anyone and the papers are really getting on me about that. I was hoping you could fight them off for me.”

“Fight them off for you?” That was an usual thing. And looking for someone experienced? In dating? Though Derek could well believe if Stiles became rich young, Stiles didn’t have enough time to date.

“Well, you know. You’re big. And scary. Like, in all your pictures, you’re scowling.” Derek frowned- was he really? No wonder nobody contacted him about being their sugar baby. Stiles barreled on, undeterred by Derek’s silence. “Not that you’d ever get physical. But if we were sugaring, the world would think we’re dating, and I’d get the press off my back and you would get your allowance, suits, contacts, vacations- anything you’d want.”

Stiles sounded a little desperate.

Derek could work with that. Easily.

“Well,” Derek began, “You want to enter a relationship with me to show me off to the press? I’m just asking for clarification.” Derek breathed in. It was a good thing he already knew how to turn on the charm, how to smile, how to do anything, because this would be like stealing candy from a baby. “You want me to be _exclusive_ with you?”

Stiles swallowed. He could _hea_ r Stiles swallow as the Pot thought about it. “No,” Stiles began. “That wouldn’t be a good business practice for you.”

Derek was surprised. His other daddies got jealous when they heard about other clients or daddies. He had no trouble telling them about the others. Derek was pretty upfront, which he knew he shouldn’t be, but with Stiles being so open and accepting right off the bat was… incredible.

He couldn’t let this guy go. Push hard, get money, enough to not need Jennifer or Deucalion or maybe anybody. Wrap Stiles around his finger and-

“If the press did catch you, though, it’d be great,” Stiles continued, thinking about the PR story already. “I’m so in love with you, I don’t care if you cheat. Hmm.”

Derek laughed. “You should have been in public relations,” he supplied.

There was a smile in the other’s voice. “I thought about it, once. Was told it wasn’t good enough.” The man thought. “So, no, you don’t have to be exclusive with me. Mostly the places in public will be parties and events, and the papers and press are other companies. The occasional work trip, maybe.”

No meetups, no dates. Stiles must be new. Usually dates and meetups were more important than party showings or events, especially at first. This felt more like an escorting gig, like a boyfriend experience. Stiles shouldn’t be calling him a boyfriend right now, nor mentioning so much about his life. Being in public could be dangerous for either of them if the press found out about Derek’s business.

Yet, Stiles seemed loaded. And that was enough to overlook Stiles’s inexperience.

Derek wanted to wait until that first meeting to bring up meeting for dates, but then he might not get to know Stiles. The more he knew Stiles, the better it would be for both of them. And maybe the more he got to know Stiles, the more he could take charge. Of the relationship. Derek swallowed and tried to stuff down his attraction. It wasn’t helping him right now.

“Okay. In my last relationship,” Derek began, “I often met with my sugar mama maybe four times a month. Just something fun for both of us- a walk in the park, dinner, a movie, anything fun,” Derek added, emphasizing the fun.

He wondered what Stiles would be like in bed. Would he analyze Derek? Would he be terrible in the sack, thinking he’s god with the arrogance of youth? Briefly Derek remembered Stiles’s inhale and his voice dropped as he pictured Stiles on the bed underneath him. “Occasionally she took me on vacations with her. It gets lonely. She didn’t want to be bored.”

Stiles let out a huff of air. “You would certainly be a fix for that,” he commented. “Your scowl could scare away all the boredom in the world.”

 _Ouch_. Derek stiffened at the comment but breathed, trying to think of a more passive way of showing his hurt. “Is it really that bad?” he asked almost shyly, trying to imply that he was sensitive about it and gave a damn.

Stiles took the hint immediately. “Oh, God, no, so sorry, it’s not that bad. It’s not. And you’ve got a smiling photo- that’s really the one that decided it, oh, god, no, my mouth, it gets away with me sometimes, I’m so sorry.” Stiles breathed.

“It’s okay,” Derek assured him, somewhat amused by the panic he’d sent the other voice into. “So. Are the parties meetups, or would you rather have events plus meeting outside of those? I’m asking because I’m not quite sure about the time commitment. I don’t want to give anything less than 100% to this relationship if we find out we match each other well.”

“Right, right. Maybe three events a month. One of those is usually a trip. This month is a little weird though, things are getting scheduled and rescheduled all the time. But dates could definitely be a thing. We’d probably get more comfortable and that’d be a great thing. So maybe two dates and two events?”

  1. Derek made a note in the back of his mind to assure Stiles he wouldn’t put out on the first date.



“Also,” Stiles continued. “I would need you to sign a contract of confidentiality. It wouldn’t have our payment or agreement, because those are gifts. But it would keep you from speaking badly about me to the press.”

 _Those_. Derek had only heard of those. Usually men with those agreements paid good, good money for those.

“I would give you $5,000 before you signed and another $10000 after,” Stiles presented. His tone was flat, serious. Derek couldn’t detect a lie. His gut was strangely not screaming at him to run away from such a high offer.

“I understand,” Derek murmured. Holy shit. Twenty thousand on the table right now, if he included the gift card. Only half aware of what he was saying, Derek continued. “I think, with the added pressure of events and whatnot, I might need something like 4k a month in order to keep myself looking good for you. Suits and things can be expensive-“

“I’ll buy the suits,” Stiles readily agreed. “That won’t be a problem. I’d happily do 4k a month, with the understanding that should I need anymore of your time, I will compensate you accordingly for it.”

Holy shit.

Derek’s head was spinning.

“I look forward to seeing you on Friday,” Derek murmured, unable to think clearly. Euphoria was rushing through him. This couldn’t be real. It _couldn’t_.

“Good,” Stiles chirped happily. “I’ve got the reservation set up. I’ll forward it to your e-mail, okay? Goodnight, Erek. It was great talking with you. I look forward to meeting you in the future.”

So businesslike.

Stiles hung up and Derek checked his e-mail immediately.

The reservation lay in wait under the name Stilinski. Stiles also included what had to have been a picture of himself in a button up suit, holding up a sign with his username and time on a whiteboard, saying “Hello, Erek!” to assure he was real.

Derek’s fingers flew faster than a bullet, nearly pounding that name away into Google. It had to be something it had to be something important.

It was.

“Stiles” Stilinski, Derek read, was the world’s youngest billionaire, with a start-up software company that designed internet privacy apps. His mouth hung open as he recognized the man in the article.

Holy shit.

His Pot was a billionaire.

His Pot was sexy, Derek’s type, talkative, interested, new, and a billionaire. Everything Derek could possibly want. Plus, he’d agreed to enough money to possibly ease Derek out of escorting, something Derek had been intending to do.

Holy shit.

There was not enough oxygen in the world for the sugar baby right now. Derek attempted to breathe, but he couldn’t. He gaped like a fish for a few moments instead, trying to grasp what was happening.

Holy shit.

Derek pressed a hand against his forehead, shutting his laptop and sliding off the bed, heading out past the living area and up the stairs to the mezzanine. He knocked on Erica’s door, still buck-naked, body trembling with excitement.

She groggily opened her door in boyshorts. “What’s up, Derek?” she asked sleepily.

“20k start up,” he breathed quickly, “4k a month, he’s a billionaire, Erica. I should of pressed for more.”

Erica’s eyes went wide, awakening instantly. “Holy fuck, Derek. You’ve got to put on all the muscle. Go. Go back to that bench. Work on your shoulders. Dudes love your shoulders. And more squats.” She patted his ass. “How the hell-“

Good. She was just as flustered as he was. Derek felt reassured that he wasn’t acting too irrationally for the situation.

“He’s looking for a fake boyfriend so he doesn’t have to find a real one,” Derek continued, sliding down to the ground, balcony pressing against his back. “He’s my… he’s attractive without the money,” Derek informed her. “I might drop Jennifer with this. I might drop escorting with this.”

Erica slid down next to him, hand on her knee. Her face was serious. “Not until you know he’s serious, Derek,” she reminded him, same tone of voice Derek had used with her countless times. “Don’t cut off the money until you know you don’t need it.”

Right. A good business sense. Derek nodded, breaking out into a smile. “I’m going to bleed him dry,” Derek nearly purred as wolfishly as he could. Erica laughed.

“You don’t even know if you’ll like him. Or if he’ll like you. _Potential_ daddy, right?” She bumped his shoulder playfully.

Derek gave an even bigger grin. “He’ll have to like me. I won’t give him any other choice.” He flexed his muscles.

Erica whistled approvingly. “He won’t even know what hit him,” she agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick glossary: 
> 
> Pot: POTential sugar daddy. He's not a sugar daddy until he proves himself.   
> Salt: cheap. These men try to cheat sugar babies or can't afford them. Often do something called "pay per play" which suggests paying for a night of fun, which many sugar babies don't do.  
> Bowl: The Sugar Bowl, or the lifestyle that involves hustling, talking to sugar daddies and getting "sugar" or money. For Daddies, it's the act of hustling, giving gifts to sugar babies and getting companionship.
> 
> If there are any other words you'd like explained, let me know and I'll add them here!


	2. You gotta squeeze a little, tease a little more

 

Friday came much sooner than Derek anticipated. His time was spent getting on top of his game- more weights, facial care, healthy food and plenty of sleep. Free time was spent reviewing pickup techniques and seduction lines, checking his facial expressions in the mirror in case something went wrong.

He had to nab Stiles. He had to convince Stiles Derek was the best Stiles would ever get. The pressure was starting to get at Derek. Stiles was a billionaire; Derek would be set for years if he could convince Stiles to stay with him. Paying Derek thousands a month would be nothing to Stiles. From that Derek would be able to get into his career, to find good jobs, to settle. Being Stiles’s sugar baby was Derek’s ideal.

It wasn’t until 5:00am on Friday morning that Derek admitted to himself he maybe was a little psyched out. He knew he’d look great. He knew Stiles would blush at Derek’s flirting because they all did. But Stiles’s wealth was getting to him. No guy was that perfect. Stiles had to have a flaw somewhere. Maybe he was entitled. Maybe he was an asshole.

Derek turned over in his bed. None of these thoughts were helping right now. He hadn’t slept the entire night. He was anxious; tension building in his hands and he hadn’t been able to sleep at all which never helped. In six hours he’d head off to meet Stiles, billionaire and Derek’s type and he felt unprepared.

The sugar baby groaned. He’d be fumbling. Stiles would watch him trip over himself anxiously. With other sugar babies, like Erica, being a little vulnerable could be played as cute. “Oh, sweetie,” they’d tell her, “It’s fine. I’m glad you’re nervous.” A little bit nervous could be played off. Pots liked it when you could recover from embarrassment. It was a show of character.

But Derek? When Derek embarrassed himself, he looked angry. His anxiety resorted to scowling, to short temperaments, to “don’t waste my time”. He retreated into himself and didn’t talk, an angry, brooding self that was probably more like him but a lot less like what sugar daddies wanted to see. He’d made one sugar mama cry at a restaurant, and cry harder when he frowned in embarrassment. Not his best day.

He groaned into his pillow.

A knock against his door sounded and Derek sighed. “Come in, Erica,” he admitted. She walked in, makeup fresh and smelled like shampoo, soap and BBW’s _Dark Kiss_ perfume spray. She must have finished working tonight.

“Figured you’d be nervous.” She pulled out a cup of Starbuck’s coffee behind her. “So I got you something.”

Derek reached out and took the cup. “Thanks,” he muttered, sitting up and taking a sip. Erica sat on his bed, opening up her button-down blouse and revealing lacy fabric underneath. “I’m going to fuck up,” Derek uttered.

The pressure probably rolled off him in waves because Erica nodded, thinking about the consequences. “Possibly,” she agreed. “But on the other hand, he’s looking for someone scary and angry, right? To keep the press away from him.”

“And women,” Derek added. “Bonus.”

Erica laughed, drinking her own cup of coffee. “Bonus indeed. He’ll drool all over you, Derek Hale,” she decided. It made Derek feel a little better. He gave her a small smile before looking at her blouse with frustration.

“People will get the wrong idea,” he commented, and Erica flipped her hair.

“I’m _sexy_ ,” she announced. “I get to be sexy whenever I want, and I’m going to dress how I want in my own home.”

Derek declined to announce that it was his home too. At least the blouse wasn’t on the floor this time. Last time Erica had come home this late all her clothes had ended up in her room and he’d had to do laundry. _Her laundry._

She downed the last of her coffee. “Do you want any help getting ready?”

Derek shook his head, lips resting against the lid of the coffee cup. It tasted like morning, like being awake.

“Good,” Erica decided. “I’m going to head to bed.” She hugged him as she left the room. Derek waited until he heard her shoes clicking on the metal stairway to move around in bed.

Skin. Eyes. Definitely would need eye cream this morning. And moisturizer, he thought, thinking of a game plan. He scratched his stubble- he’d have to shave it. He was also more flushed after working out.

Basketball shorts it was.

 

***

 

Getting ready for a meetup was stressful, Derek thought, placing moisturizer underneath his eyes. It partly a normal first date, which was always stressful right until it was over. Meeting someone, trying to get to know them, deciding if they were worth investigating more of- that was anxious enough. But a sugaring meetup was always a business meeting to Derek. He was meeting his financial partner. They were exchanging goods and services.

He reached for concealer- a couple of spots on his faces were terrible.

Stiles, being new to the bowl might not realize the business nature of this meeting, but Derek would be on high alert, pretending his business seemed exactly like pleasure.

Wait.

Derek frowned. That thought sounded wrong.

Leisure, perhaps. Romantic gestures, hand touches, interest- it was Derek’s job to give Stiles a fun time. Stiles hadn’t said anything about sex yet, either, which meant Stiles might not actually want sex in this sugar relationship. Derek wouldn’t push for it, either. He never did in his sugaring relationships. Some lead to sex and some didn’t, just like dating a new person, and it was nice just to do purely romantic things with people instead of worrying about his sexual performance. So if Stiles didn’t mention sex, Derek wouldn’t mention it.

Giving one last gaze in the mirror, Derek took off the bib and looked at himself in the suit, now. Perhaps it had been the best purchase he had ever made, because it flattered him. His chest seemed wide and broad, all encompassing. His legs looked long and tight, and his ass, he knew, would look taut and shapely, though the suit wouldn’t do much for it. Derek grinned in approval at his appearance, moving back to his room and finding his lucky tie and cufflinks.

He looked like a million dollars. And if Stiles thought he looked like a million, Stiles would be more likely to _give_ him a million.

It was amazing how dressing up could always make his mood lighten, especially when he’d been so anxious earlier. He scribbled a note to Erica, “Be back around 1pm, if not home call cops” and signed it with what was supposed to be a dumbbell but Erica always called it a two-headed penis. He stuck the note to his door and looked up at her room one last time before slipping on his shoes and checking for his wallet and heading down the steps for his waiting taxi.

 

 

***

 

Derek had spent so much time looking over Stiles’s photos online that he spotted the moment the taxi pulled up to the restaurant. The billionaire was eyeing over the menu, delectable fingers tapping nervously on the table, occasionally looking around and checking his watch. Derek was early, true, but Stiles was nervous- he looked far more nervous than Derek.

Excellent. Derek paid the driver and stepped out of the taxi. Stiles was back to gazing at the menu. Derek took a deep breath, steadying his nerves one last time.

Then, Derek _turned it on_.

Shoulders back, ass a little bit more pert than it normal, chest puffed and groin forward, Derek walked like he was for sale and the rent was due tonight. Women whispered around him as he entered the restaurant, probably talking about his ass, or his abs, or maybe even his “eyes”. Though their chatter indicated his success at oozing confidence, Derek was here for Stiles’s reaction. He was here to drown Stiles Stilinski in charm, pouring it out as he opened the inside door.

He _had_ this.

In his peripheral vision he watched his prey straighten up, mouth open wide in surprise while the seating hostess caught his attention. “Do you have a reservation, sir?”

Stiles seemed to be getting up to lead him back to the table. Derek kept his eyes on the hostess, smoothly replying, “I’m part of the Stilinski party.” He flashed her a smile, only to have her raise an eyebrow back. She was immune to his charm, but Derek vowed not to let it ruin his throw off his game.

Stiles was clearly not immune, given how much wider his mouth went and how his hand trailed up to cover it. Derek’s prey reclined back in his seat, spouting faux confidence while attempting to subtly eyefuck Derek. The sugar baby let Stiles get a good, long look, widening his chest and rotating it just a bit towards Stiles, forever keeping his eyes on the hostess. Her eyes twinkled as she realized what he was up to, but said nothing more than “right this way” as she grabbed him a menu and flashed him an equally dazzling smile. Derek imagined she received great tips.

He followed her to his table, eyes noticing how Stiles stiffened as he saw him: body coming forward and Stiles’s posture suggesting aggressive interest. A great start. They walked closer, Derek making sure to work it with each step, eyes directly on Stiles.

It was a shame this wouldn’t go directly into fucking. Stiles seemed interested but subdued enough to let Derek lead, to let Derek haul him to the bathroom and take what Derek gave him.

Though the meeting was business, the attraction would make his flirtation natural. This would be like taking candy from a baby.

“Your waiter will be right with you,” the hostess announced, and gestured Derek to his seat directly across from Stiles. It was this moment that Derek allowed himself to look over Stiles Stilinski, glad he had taken the time to get his own shameless staring out of the way in the taxi. From this angle Derek could tell Stiles’s tie was crooked. Stiles was definitely not someone used to formal wear, Derek noted. The needing a partner for formal events suddenly made a lot more sense. He also made a note to think of less formal dates for the future, should this go anywhere.

Stiles’s mouth would occasionally open like a fish and close, not sure of what to do, so Derek held out his hand over the table. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Erek.”

This snapped Stiles out of whatever stupor he was in and he shook Derek’s hand. “Stiles,” he said quickly. “Stiles Stilinski.” It was a firm, good handshake, though Derek could feel Stiles trembling a little throughout the grip. Derek sent Stiles a comforting, pleased smile, watching as Stiles nearly flushed in his seat, squirming a little. When Derek let go, Stiles’s hands retreated to his sides though his fingers wiggled at the memory of Derek’s touch.

Why had he ever worried about this? Derek thought.

“Your photo doesn’t do you justice,” Derek began, hoping some flattery might get Stiles to do more than respond and twitch.

It was somewhat successful. Stiles opened his mouth and rambled something about how Derek should be talking, because his photos were like a postage stamp of a great masterpiece or something. The comment took him off guard- he made a frowning face at confusion. In a moment, he realized what he’d done- a slip-up. He hadn’t planned to frown at all if he could help it.

Inwardly, he cursed. Frowning was his kryptonite in the world of sugaring.

“There, there!” Stiles pointed out happily. Derek felt relief wash through him at the realization that his frown didn’t bother Stiles. “That looks a lot more like your photos.”

“Does it?” Derek inquired, moving his face to neutral. “I’m never really sure what I look like. I don’t frown at myself in the mirror.”

Stiles scoffed. “Lies. I bet you spend your entire day in front of a mirror sometimes. I would, with that body.”

Derek bit back the urge to suggest that maybe Stiles could have his body and spend the day in front of the mirror. Too soon. Derek needed to be polite, not sexually aggressive. “Thank you,” Derek acknowledged, looking at the menu. Deciding to move onto safer topics, he asked, “Have you had a chance to find anything here?”

Stiles shrugged. “I did take the opportunity to order us some wine,” he admitted, “but then I wasn’t sure if you drink, so I want you to know that if I down a whole bottle and drink it myself I’m not a lush, I’m just really, really awkward and you can’t hold that against me and-“

Derek reached out suddenly and grabbed Stiles’s wrist, trying to ground both of them. This rambling would probably tire on Derek’s nerves in the future (it was grinding on them now), but for now Derek could ignore this in exchange for at least making it to the 10k confidentiality contract.

“I like wine on special occasions,” he allowed. “It’s perfectly fine.”

He could feel the relief pour off Stiles. “Okay. Good.” The man inhaled a breath. “Sorry. I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“Never ordered off a menu?” The joke cut through the tension and Stiles laughed. When he stopped, the younger man seemed much calmer. Derek let the wrist in his hand go, glancing over the items as Stiles did the same.

He ignored the cheaper items and glanced over the most three expensive, deciding between the three. He also briefly glanced at the wine list, noting which were expensive and which cheaper. He shut the menu, looking at Stiles who was ready to order.

“Which wine did you get?” Derek asked, and Stiles looked horrified, realizing he’d ordered wine before knowing what their meals would be.

“No wonder she looked at me funny,” Stiles murmured out loud. “Uh, the Belgian one.”

The most expensive on the list, Derek remembered. And Stiles didn’t look like it physically hurt him to order it. If he didn’t mind Derek’s order, he’d pass the salt test. “Good choice,” Derek uttered softly. Stiles went from horrified to looking pleased with himself.

The waitress appeared and asked for their orders. Stiles ended up with cacciatore, while Derek ordered a rare steak, noting Stiles didn’t even bat an eye. The waitress nodded and asked for anything else, and asked if they’d like the wine now or with the meal.

Stiles asked for now. He must have really been nervous.

The waitress left and Derek was left looking across the table at the billionaire. “So, Stiles. What do you do for a living?”

Stiles looked a little relieved at the question. “Computer programming,” he answered. “I uh, developed an app for privacy. Essentially,” Stiles continued, “It blocks big data from collecting your information. It’s only for smartphones right now, and only for app usage, not browser stuff, but we’re working on a universal system.”

Derek raised an eyebrow, impressed. “What would make it more difficult for a browser?”

Stiles continued on about privacy and IP blocking and apps, and Derek nodded along, trying to make sense of it all. He’d have to do some online reading later to figure out what Stiles meant. For now, he kept his face interested, focusing more on the passion Stiles used when speaking, how his hands gestured all over the place, how his eyes would light up every time Derek gave him a nod of understanding.

Once the computer programmer finished he looked over at Derek, a little red on his cheeks.

“Uh, what sorts of stuff do you like?” Stiles asked. “Sorry I’m hogging all of the conversation here.”

“It’s fine,” Derek assured him it was, merely because Stiles at least acknowledged what he was doing. Plus, Derek didn’t like to talk. “I like baseball.” Derek offered, noting the wine had been left sometime during Stiles’s speech. They’d been both too caught up in the conversation to notice.

“I do too!” Stiles admitted, sitting upright. “What’s your favorite team?”

“Wagons,” Derek offered, and Stiles went sour. Derek looked surprised. “Of course,” he uttered. “You’re a Jaybird fan, aren’t you?”

Stiles stared at him. Derek felt color drain from his face- of course _that_ would be the one thing that would make this fall apart- baseball. In a split second Stiles was laughing, grabbing Derek’s wrist warmly this time. A joke. It had all been a joke.

“Awesome. I won’t hold you terrible team choice against you though, promise.” Derek raised an eyebrow as if to suggest he were the one judging. He hoped Stiles wouldn’t see the relief crash through him.

The waitress returned with their plates, placing the cacciatore in front of Stiles, and giving Derek the steak. She glanced at the unopened bottle of wine and wordlessly opened it up, pouring them both a glass. Stiles thanked her and she soundlessly moved away, smiling all the while.

Stiles took a sip of wine. “I, uh…” Stiles trailed off.

“First time in the bowl?” Derek asked, trying to be sympathetic. Stiles nodded painfully, downing the wine. Derek found forgiveness in his heart, even if he normally liked to keep money out of a date like this one. “What do you want to ask me?”

Stiles’s eyes ran across Derek’s features, taking him in before taking a breath. “What… what was your last sugar daddy like?” he asked. It was a dangerous game for comparison but Derek had already given some information before.

“Well, like I said,” Derek began, “I usually had dates with my last sugar momma.”

Stiles seemed surprised, but nodded, nervously touching the table. “But she did take me to some events.”

“And business travels,” Stiles added, as if remembering.

Derek nodded, smiling. “Right.” Stiles remembered, which was good. Stiles was paying him careful attention. Derek made a note to keep straight whatever he mentioned to Stiles.

Stiles froze for a moment before looking up at Derek in horror. “I’m really socially awkward,” he admitted, halfway through chewing his food. “I’m so sorry for the blunder, Erek, I should have asked about you first. Shit.” He sat back. “Damn. It really just seems I’m with you for your looks, doesn’t it?”

Derek shrugged. “You wouldn’t be the first,” he admitted, thinking of Jennifer. “But we’re here, so it isn’t only about looks, right?”

Stiles seemed to take comfort in that. “Right,” he continued. “God, I’m so sorry. I’m super-awkward, you know? That’s why I wanted to do this.”

An awkward silence settled around them until Derek looked over at Stiles. “How’s the cacciatore?” he asked, and Stiles looked up at him, somewhat relieved for the conversation topic.

“Good. It’s a little salty, but I happen to like that.” Stiles took another bite and swallowed, his face flashing in pleasure for a moment. “What about your steak?”

Derek looked down at where he’d eaten only half. “It’s good,” he admitted. “It’s still juicy, how I like it.”

The approval Stiles gave him shot Derek’s heart up with confidence; Stiles _liked_ him. He’d have this. It’d be all in the bag. Derek flashed him another smile. “What’s your favorite dish?” he asked.

Stiles took a bite while he thought, swallowing some more water before answering. It wasn’t suave or polite, but Stiles held the purse strings right now and Derek refused to comment on it. Yet.

He’d fix that before they broke up, though.

Derek tapped on the table for good luck, hoping he hadn’t just jinxed himself.

“I can make a mean vegetable lasagna. Or pot roast,” Stiles uttered. “Pot roast is easy- I’d set it in the crock pot before school and when I came home the meat was all juicy and tender, as were the veggies. I’d make it a lot for my dad when he’d come home from work- it was nice when we could eat it, just the two of us.” Stiles looked a little sad, so Derek debated whether or not to cherry-pick that topic. Instead, he went for other food.

“What else did you cook?”

“Healthy stuff,” Stiles told him. “I’m not actually very good at cooking. I just have the two things and that’s it.” He gave a little laugh. “Right now I’m eating out far more than I should be, but my Dad’s getting on me for that. I worried about his health as a kid and now he worries about mine- payback, you could say.”

Ah. Father was alive. Derek nodded, taking a sip of his wine while thinking of his next question. Apparently his original follow-up would be safe to ask; the present tense meant Stiles’s dad was still alive.

The glass made a dull clink against the cool, white cloth as Derek looked over at Stiles. His face was still a little sad, but fond. Probably on good relations with his father. “What does he do for a living?” Derek asked.

Stiles’s face fell. Ah. No good. “Um… He used to be a sheriff,” Stiles said quickly. Derek took the note to drop the topic, though he ate up the continuation the billionaire gave him. “He’s retired now.”

“Must have been worrisome,” Derek said softly. Stiles hadn’t mentioned his mother, so Derek assumed she was out of the picture. Especially if Stiles was at home, making dinner in high school.

“Sometimes,” Stiles agreed though his eyes were becoming jaded, harsh, and Derek knew this topic of conversation was closing up fast.

“I’ve got a sister at home,” Derek informed him as a change of subject, thinking of Erica. “Sometimes she’ll cook for me and sometimes I’ll cook for her. Though she’s the better cook.”

Stiles snorted. “I’ll bet. Sorry, you just don’t seem like the cooking type.”

“Not usually, no.” Derek shrugged, not offended. But it was good, something somewhat embarrassing, vulnerable. People ate that up. And Stiles looked like he was engaged again, interested. Derek couldn’t afford to lose him now.

“What’s her name?”

“Erica,” Derek told him. “I’ve got a picture of her in my wallet, if you’d like to see her.”

When the billionaire nodded, Derek reached into his back pocket, making sure to broaden his chest a little in the movement, soaking in how Stiles’s eyes focused on his form. Candy from a baby.

Wallet in hand, Derek flipped through the photos before handing it over to Stiles with the focus on Erica. “That’s my sister.”

Stiles looked it over, frowning. “You don’t look anything alike,” he uttered in surprise.

“We’re adopted siblings,” Derek explained smoothly. It didn’t feel like a lie.

Stiles poked up. “Oh? Were you named that way, then, or did your adoptive parents give you your names?” At Derek’s confusion, Stiles smirked and explained. “Erek and Erica!”

That did sound dumb now that Stiles said it out loud. None of Derek’s previous sugar parents had ever brought it up. “You know, I’ve never thought about it,” Derek said honestly, trying to force his face to reveal more surprise than he thought. “I suppose we always had those names.” He took another bite of his steak, finishing the meat. Stiles looked over the photos again and handed them back to Derek.

“She looks really pretty.”

Derek shrugged. “She’s my sister,” he allowed, more focused on his steak. “I wouldn’t know. I suppose it would explain all the boyfriends, since she’s so pretty.”

“Not as pretty as you,” Stiles informed him. Derek raised his eyebrow and Stiles panicked, briskly changing the subject. “Are you the older or younger sibling?”

“I’m older,” Derek murmured. He hadn’t seen anybody this socially awkward in a long time. Maybe being with Stiles would be a lot more work than he originally anticipated. “Wiser in the ways of the world.”

The words held more weight than Derek meant for them to. Luckily, Stiles didn’t pick up on their heaviness. Instead he continued. “Ah, man! I bet you’re even older than me. Wouldn’t that be weird?”

Derek looked over at Stiles. He’d had younger guys before, though he didn’t want to share it. Instead, he pictured Stiles squirming beneath him, all his attempts to please him like a little puppy. A foot in his mouth kind of guy, but his attempts to please Derek would be endearing.

“Not if you don’t think it’s weird.” Derek leaned forward a little, watching how Stiles reacted. The billionaire also shifted forward, interested. “I’m really more like a boyfriend, Stiles. If there’s no connection, it’s not a good relationship for either party. So connection is always more important than age or money to me.”

Derek let Stiles stew in that as he finished off his glass of wine. Stiles looked pleased, relieved even. Derek continued. “Also, I can affirm you’re the cutest guy who has ever taken me on a date. You have that going for you.”

Stiles nearly fell over on the table. Derek decided to file it under “adorable” instead of “annoying”, mostly because the first would help the relationship last longer.

“Sorry,” Stiles apologized. “Just, usually, people don’t go for someone like me, right? I mean, I’ve got money, but they don’t ever find me attractive or anything.”

Money. That conversation topic could get dangerous. If Stiles thought Derek was with him only for the money, it would create insecurities and anxiety and poison the entire relationship between them. Derek was with Stiles for the money, but still he needed to nip those fears in the bud.

“Well, I think you’re attractive. It’s what convinced me to open your message.” Derek sent another smile and this one hit home. Stiles fuddled around with his fork, looking like a dog that had just been told “good dog”. “You’re exactly my type.”

Stiles huffed. “Rich?” It was a dangerous question, a land mine. Stiles _knew_ what he was sending out.

Derek smiled a sultry, sly smile while thinking his answer. _Rich. Eager._ Instead Derek’s mouth responded, “Talkative. I’m going to put this on the table for you, Stiles, it’s important for you to know.” Stiles focused on his eyes, invested in every word that spilled from Derek’s lips. “I’m not a very talkative person by nature.”

The admission seemed to confuse Stiles for a moment. As it dawned on him, Stiles laughed. “That’s great, actually. I never let anyone get a word in.”

“Dessert, gentlemen?” The waitress asked. The billionaire opened his mouth but Derek shook his head, quickly cutting him off. No need to order more.

“I’m sorry,” Derek muttered at Stiles’s fallen face, hand reaching again to Stiles’s exposed wrist on the table. He watched Stiles’s breath catch at the contact. “I’ve only got this hour before I have to get back.”

Stiles shook his head. “No worries. I understand.” He seemed a little sad about letting Derek go; Derek hoped that wasn’t his ego talking.

The waitress took their plates and promised she’d be back with their check.

“Ah!” Stiles remembered suddenly, body jerking. “Before we go, I wanted to give you a thank-you gift for meeting me.” He bent over and reached into his briefcase, pulling out a white envelope and set it on Derek’s side of the table. He also reached down for a bag, setting it next to the envelope. Derek took both, thanking Stiles.

Damn. It was bad form to look at it now. “Is it safe to bend?” Derek asked, motioning to his wallet still on the table. Stiles nodded. “Pretty sure it’s safe,” Stiles added, “But anything that close to your ass might not be.”

Derek gave an awkward chuckle as he folded the paper into his wallet. That joke was just bad. Terrible joke. Stiles looked embraced for it as well, which was good, because it was a terrible, terrible joke. Stiles searched for the waitress hopelessly. “Maybe you shouldn’t want me to talk so much, dude.”

“Ah, no,” Derek countered. “Now you see the reason why I don’t like to talk. I trip over my words like it’s nothing.”

Stiles gave him a small, genuine smile at that, taking the check from the waitress and handed her a card. “Thanks,” he told her. Turning back to Derek, he uttered. “I see.” He must have taken Derek’s relaxation at Stiles’s footing the bill for honest approval, because Stiles beamed again. “Ah, this may be a little forward, but I was wondering if I could have your number? I’m much more responsive through texts.”

Derek could do this. “Alright,” Derek agreed, and told Stiles his number. He wondered if Stiles needed to be discreet though Stiles had yet to say anything about it. Still, it was policy not to text his clients or daddies unless they texted him first.

Stiles plugged it into his phone immediately, eyes lighting up as Derek’s phone beeped with a new message. “It says have a good day,” Stiles informed him. Derek nodded, not bothering to check his phone. Stiles sent another message, rather pleased with himself.

“Let’s talk later,” Derek read aloud. Warmth and happiness radiated out of Stiles's entire being as Derek finished. Derek could handle this sort of interaction. There were a few bumps today, just like everything, but the day had been an overall success.

The waitress came by with the signed copy and Stiles easily handed her a generous cash tip with the signed copy of the receipt. As Derek put his wallet away (the cab would be waiting for him about now), he noted Stiles was also gathering his things nervously.

“Thanks for today,” Derek told him. “I had fun.”

Lies. Derek had sat in a diner being provided for by one of the wealthiest men on the planet and sat across from one of the handsomest faces that he had yet to see this month. He didn’t have fun; he just had a fucking lifetime of entertainment.

“I did too,” Stiles told him from across the table with the biggest, dumbest, most endearing grin on his face and Derek knew the deal was sealed.

 

***

 

“Nailed it,” he announced as he entered the apartment. “Fucking nailed it.” The door shut behind him as he proudly puffed out his chest.

“Whooot!” Erica clapped for him, turning around on the sofa so she could holler. “I knew you could!”

He pulled out his wallet, looking at the cash within. It was half of his monthly allowance, noted as a tip according to the post-it on the bills. Another note claimed Stiles really wanted to provide Derek with anything he needed, and the actual, full allowance would come after the next event. Anything he needed, it reminded Derek. And it ended was a long list of possible things Derek might want, but ended with a, “Here’s a little gift for our great time. Thanks for meeting with me. [Look at the Package now].”

Derek smiled- Stiles was a sap. A sap that wanted to gift Derek with everything he could to show his affection. Only an idiot would look that gift horse in the mouth. Derek handed the note to Erica, letting her read it as he looked inside the package.

There, another envelope sat- with a note scribbled. “I’d like to continue this,” the scrawled writing said. “Inside is the first half of the confidentiality clause money.” Derek opened up the envelope- another 5k. “Erica,” he nearly whispered.

Erica read the note. “Holy fuck Derek, you just got my old annual wage in a _week_ ,” she breathed, just as surprised as he was. She continued babbling but Derek paid her no mind, opening the box that was labeled _Ipad_.

Stiles had bought him an Ipad air. Derek blinked, checking the Ipad’s memory on the back. Stiles had paid for the most expensive model, he noted as he read the number of gigabytes. Derek’s heartbeat quickened as thrill poured through him. Stiles loved showing off. Stiles loved giving gifts and making sure they were the best, most expensive ones.

Derek immediately planned to update his wish lists.

Erica whistled and grabbed his Ipad, looking it over. “I’ve never gotten one of these.” She hummed appreciatively as she looked it over.

“You can have my old one,” Derek offered as hastily he took it back from her. Did it come with pictures of Stiles, maybe? He booted it up. Nope, he realized. The Ipad was completely brand-new.

Erica looked at the box. “Seriously, Derek? Jennifer gave that to you three months ago.”

“And she doesn’t see me use it. Stiles might see me use this one,” Derek countered, not wanting to think about Jennifer. “Erica, either take it or I’ll sell it. I don’t need two.”

“Dibs. Thanks.” Erica seemed to notice Derek’s sudden tension at Jennifer’s name but she didn’t say anything about it, continuing to search in the bag instead. Suddenly, she stopped. “Derek.”

Derek looked up. She held onto a three-page note, also in Stiles’s hand. “He’s made app recommendations for productivity. And he mentions he’ll buy them all if you want.” She looked over the pages. “What’s wrong with him, Derek? It’s never this good.”

Derek bit his lip, eyeing the Ipad suspiciously. “It might not last,” Derek finally admitted. “He might be looking for someone quick. Or maybe the paparazzi or rumors will be stronger than I expect.” The sugar baby bit his lip, thinking on her words. But his gut seemed to say it felt right. Stiles didn’t hit him in a way that felt dangerous.

Erica handed him the note. “Well, for now, he _provides_ ,” she murmured. “I’m jealous.”

Derek felt his face break into a grin. “He provides well.” He checked his phone- nothing from Stiles yet. It was time for the waiting game: waiting for Stiles to contact him. Or maybe tonight, he might contact Stiles and thank him again for today’s lunch.

The weariness of the sleepless night began to sink at his bones. “You did good,” Erica told him, patting him on the back. “You want a sandwich?”

It was a kind offer though Derek couldn’t take her up on it. He shook his head. “I’m going to go shower, then sleep,” Derek informed her. Erica gave him a thumbs up, handing him back all the cash he’d let her look at, though she did take Stiles’s app list of recommendations out of his hand.

Stiles… was a dork. He gifted and was awkward and talked far too much, occasionally putting his foot in his mouth. His fingers drummed at the tabletop annoyingly. He fumbled all over himself and made faux pas left and right.

But Stiles was safe. And he _provided._

 

***

 

Deep in slumber, Derek felt the gentle warmth his mother’s hand on his shoulder. Her soft words reached his ears, telling him how proud she was of him. He looked around his old room, wanting to dive into her embrace-

The buzzing on the bed ripped him out of his sleep, a bittersweet feeling building in his heart as reality crashed down on him. His eyes trailed on the photograph laying facedown. Right, he remembered, he was not in Beacon Hills. His phone buzzed again and he groaned as he reached for it, excitement building as he remembered Stiles might be calling.

The Google voice app mentioned one message. Derek’s heart soared- things were looking good.

Stiles had sent him a message. Holding his breath, Derek looked over the message, scanning it for what he hoped Stiles would say. He wasn’t disappointed.

 **Message From** : Stiles

Hi Erek! I had a really great time. I’d definitely like to continue sponsoring you in the future, if you’re aright with that. I did have an additional question: Would it be possible to also arrange for a couple of dates a month? Outside of the business events and travel?

**End Message**

Success. Derek let out a yell of success. Stiles was _his_. The message was better than he could have hoped for.

There wouldn’t need to be a follow-up meetup, or date, or waiting period again. . Nobody could resist Derek’s form. Nobody. Derek set the timer on his phone for one hour, happily dozing back into a nap, rolling his good luck around in his mind- Stiles was interested. He’d captured that sugar daddy and entrapped him with his charm.

When he awoke again to the buzzing phone, he typed his message. He didn’t want to look desperate, after all. A lot of guys preferred the chase, and Stiles might have been one of them. He’d find out soon enough, anyway- Stiles seemed pretty desperate right now, coloring a lot of what Derek intended to say.

 **Message To:** Stiles

I also had a good time. Thank you for the lovely gift- I actually was thinking about getting an Ipad recently, so it was a very welcome surprise.

An arrangement with you sounds wonderful; you’re a really charming guy. How many extra dates were you thinking? I’m not sure my schedule is free for both dates and social parties. I’m sure we can work something out, though-

I look forward to seeing you again!

-Erek

**End Message**

It wasn’t even a minute before Stiles responded. Derek grinned; the billionaire must have had it bad for him. He pictured Stiles’s face as he received the message- probably he’d been sitting at his phone, fingers thumping away on the table as he looked at it every so often, desperate not to call Derek first.

 **Message From** : Stiles

Oh, I’m glad you liked it! If you didn’t, I had other models or ideas I could exchange for you. That offer still stands, by the way.

Maybe something like three dates, and then I’d cancel some of the events I originally intended for you to attend. I don’t want to monopolize your time.

**End Message**

Derek smiled to himself. He could practically hear the lie. Stiles seemed like the sort of guy who would want all of Derek’s time if he could, doting on him left and right. But not going to meetings worked much better for Derek- being out of public meant fewer clients would recognize him and jeopardize his relationship with Stiles. After all, it would only take a jealous client to go to the media and have the whole thing fall down around him.

Private meetings with Stiles. Derek could picture them- Stiles sputtering, like earlier today, and maybe Derek would shut him up with a kiss or a blowjob, fucking the words out of him so Derek didn’t have to hear them. Stiles would spend the rest of the time sighing happily and talking about things that Derek needed and throwing sugar his way- yes. This was a good future.

 **Message To:** Stiles

Three sounds great. I’m usually free on weekends and Tuesdays, fyi. But you also mentioned an event coming up soon, and I’d like to go to that if I can; it would show me what to expect from other events if you needed me.

**End Message**

Derek wondered if they should get some sort of synced calendar app- maybe Stiles had recommended one. They could have meetings that way. Or maybe he should call Stiles now, set up all the meetings-

His phone buzzed.

 **Message from:** Stiles

Ah, yeah. It’s next week at 7:00pm, but I’d also like to meet with you at my office before then, for a contract signing- only about confidentiality, nothing else. You should have received the advance with the Ipad.

**End Message**

Derek looked at his calendar. He had a meeting with Deucalion the day after, so no, it wouldn’t matter. He wasn’t going to trust Stiles’s word on it only being about confidentiality. He would read that thing through again and again before he signed it.

 _I’m game_ , he typed, and sent the message. The deal was sealed: Stiles was officially his newest sugar daddy. It was going to be a blast.

 **Message from:** Stiles

Awesome. Sweet dreams, Erek.

**End message**

Derek planned for dreams where he _swam_ in sugar.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Derek wakes up from a nocturnal panic attack and immediately goes through the breathing exercises.

Chapter three

 

Darkness and death would have been preferable to the dream Derek awoke from. Mindlessly he searched for the restraints on his limbs, shivering in a cold sweat when he couldn’t find them. They had to be there. He could feel them moments ago, cutting off his circulation and-

The cold light of his alarm clock brought him back to where he actually was, safe, in his apartment, hundreds of miles from _her_. He pressed his hand against the scar on his chest, breathing. 

Inhaled for four seconds, paused for four seconds, exhaled for four seconds. 

She wasn’t here. She was gone. He was safe. It was okay to calm down; it had been just a dream.

Inhale for four seconds, pause for four seconds, exhale for four seconds. 

His limbs felt shaky, twitching and too big. He could barely feel his fingertips. 

Inhale for four seconds, pause for four seconds, exhale for four seconds. 

He couldn’t-

Inhale for four seconds, pause for four seconds, exhale for four seconds. 

Derek thanked his lucky stars that he didn’t have any meetings for the rest of the day. Too wired to fall asleep, he thought of other activities he could do instead. It had been a terrible panic-inducing dream.

Inhale for four seconds, pause for four seconds, exhale for four seconds.

He couldn’t be here in bed. Swinging his legs over the edge of his bed, he headed for the balcony. Not bothering with the lights, Derek reached his hand out in front of him, groping walls and sofas until he came to the living room, finally able to see the doorway from the city lights. He swung the balcony door open, inhaling crisp night air, forcing himself to see the sky and breathe. 

He was free. He could do this. Just a bad night. 

The night before him was quiet, calm. The streetlights glowed like lamps while while radio and cell phone towers sent comforting red reminders of their existence. One neighbor’s light was flickering out on Derek’s right. 

The moon hung low overhead, comforting, reminding him of much better times underneath trees. They would probably be rustling now back in Beacon Hills, probably over where his family slept, and- 

Derek hurt. All of this hurt. 

Maybe TV would be better.

He walked back inside, securing the balcony and falling onto the sofa. Mindlessly he turned on the TV, blankly watching when suddenly his phone rumbled beside him. He picked it up to look at the message, hoping it was a friend instead of a client.

The message was from Stiles. 

Stiles had sent him a message. 

At three in the morning. 

Derek raised an eyebrow but opened the message anyway. “Hope to see you in a couple days,” he read aloud. “I’ll introduce you to everyone in the party. And there’s the contract, too, which will protect both of us and I’m really excited about seeing you again. Sorry to interrupt your sleep.”

It was cute. And it was the first text from Stiles in three days, after they’d hashed out the finer points of this arrangement. Derek found himself smiling as he texted back. 

**Message To: Stiles.**

You woke me up from a really bad nightmare. I’ll have sweet dreams now. ;)

**End Message**

It was honest, and he hoped it would be flirty enough for Stiles. He wasn’t really flirty at three in the morning. He was more grumpy and vulnerable right now.

Stiles sent him back a text immediately. 

“Those are the worst,” Derek read to himself, imagining Stiles’s voice instead of his own sleep-rough one. “I’d be surprised if you’re able to sleep- take it easy for the rest of the day. Goodnight, Erek.”

It was somehow more comforting that Derek had expected. It didn’t seem comforting at all when he first looked it over, but when Derek read the text aloud something settled inside his chest. Maybe he read it more than once. 

He was in the middle of reading his text again and watching TV when Erica came home. He could tell by her sudden stop that her eyes were narrowing. She flicked on the light. “Nightmare,” he informed her. 

Her gaze dropped from suspicious to understanding at once. “Sorry to hear it.” She pulled off her boots and grabbed a make-up wipe from her purse, cleaning her face as she moved to the sofa. “Wanna hear some good news?”

“Give it to me,” Derek replied, smoothly setting his phone down on the table. Erica flopped over the sofa and onto his lap, looking up at his eyes. 

“I dropped Kali,” she announced proudly. “She’d been talking about bloodplay. I gave her someone else’s name and told her not to contact me again.” 

“Good call,” Derek murmured. He wondered if he should do the same with Deucalion. 

“She kept… she was always eating at my self-esteem. Very rude. None of my other clients have been that rude.” Erica sighed. “I know I did the right thing, just…” 

“There will be other clients,” Derek assured her. “I’m glad you dropped her. Good choice.”

“Yeah,” Erica agreed, and turned her head to the TV. It still felt icky, though, Derek knew. It felt weird knowing you’d given up what once was a sure thing for money. But better that than hurt.

The two sat in silence for a while, Derek thinking about Deucalion and Erica about Jennifer. Stiles didn’t seem like Deucalion at all. Where Deucalion was reserved, Stiles was obvious. Where Deucalion was cunning, Stiles seemed openly brilliant. He could even picture Stiles in bed- cute, flailing, willing to please-

Nope. This was not helping him calm down. Derek tapped on Erica’s shoulder. “I’m going to go work out,” he told her. Erica grunted.

“It means you have to move.” He shot his roommate a dirty look.

Erica growled as she moved her head, freeing Derek. Derek got up at moved to their gym. 

It didn’t take long to get into a familiar rhythm of mind-clearing movement. Derek knew he had to drop either Deucalion or Jennifer in his life. He couldn’t deal with the stress of both of them and trying to focus on pleasing Stiles. Guys that rich… Stiles’s rich… they tended to be spoiled. They wanted fantasies. And Derek would have to do his best to be that fantasy. 

It helped Stiles seemed to have a thing for the built, silent type. And he liked Derek’s scowl. Derek didn’t want to try harder than he had to; easier to pretend that way.

In a couple days he’d see Stiles again. Derek could picture it; Stiles with his terrible tie, awkwardly flailing and trying to meet people, Derek being suave and keeping people out of Stiles’s way, like a bodyguard, almost. He snorted, losing himself in the fantasy as he clapped between push-ups, his hands growing tired with lack of sleep and exhaustion. 

It didn’t take much more before he felt the familiar lull of sleep. 

 

***

 

He looked at the text over and over again in the back seat of the taxi. Stiles had sent his address, had informed the guards at his building Derek was coming up. Derek was dressed in a tux as per request, and while he looks like a million bucks, he couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. 

There wasn’t just Stiles to impress tonight. There will be a lot of important people at this thing, supposedly. Even if he’d stop by Stiles’s office first and see his sugar daddy, Derek was going to be visible by every eye in Stiles’s job and he suddenly wasn’t sure he wanted the attention. He knew it was just a little stage fright right then, nervous about the contract of confidentiality, nervous because he’d never done anything like this, he’d never gotten anyone this big or famous before. 

It’d better to be nervous now in the car than in front of Stiles, he decided. 

The taxi took its final turn and Derek swallowed, thinking about what lay before him. He thought about it as he paid the driver, he thought about it as he talks to security, he thought about it as he was escorted to the top floor where Stiles is. He knocked on the door and he was buzzed in- _buzzed in_. A woman looked over his figure appreciatively before paging Stiles. 

Most sugar daddies preferred to be discreet. They chose to meet somewhere away from work, not in it. They wanted to hold hands, go to dinner, fuck in anonymous hotel rooms. 

Stiles was breaking all of the conventions. 

Stiles immediately requested for Derek to be sent in. His voice sounded somewhat nervous. The lady looked up and escorted Derek to Stiles’s office, not entering with him, but whispering, “Thank God. Now I can go home.” She gave him a wink as if she knew they’d fuck over Stiles’s desk. 

When she left, Derek didn’t miss her.

It flustered Derek a little, how much Stiles didn’t want to hide him away. He breathed for moment before opening the door, trying to ground himself in reality.

The office itself was nothing special; no different than one he’d seen before. What made it special was the young man sitting at a computer, back turned towards Derek as the billionaire typed furiously on his computer. Stiles’s jacket hung on the wall, his desk covered in papers, a briefcase by the side of his desk. Stiles looked so focused in that moment Derek blinked surprised. He didn’t peg Stiles as the focused type. 

“Go ahead and sit down, Erek, sorry, gotta finish this up,” Stiles told him, not even looking his way. Derek shrugged and sat down, watching Stiles’s shoulders move. 

“Quite alright,” Derek purred. Delight surged through him as he watched how Stiles shivered at his voice, wondering how Stiles would react if he leaned over and whispered it hotly in his ear. He could picture himself pinning that nubile body against the computer, hands covering Stiles’s-

At least he attraction part wouldn’t be hard to fake, he thought as reminded himself to remain professional here. He couldn’t let too much attraction show through.

Stiles seemed to be squirming in his seat, his typing slowing. He was thinking of something. Derek smirked but remained silent- Stiles’s work was important. If Stiles was focusing on his work, really. Judging by the number of open tabs, he might not be. 

Stiles continued typing, ignoring as his phone blared to life. Derek didn’t presume to answer it, but he did glance over- someone named “Scott” was calling him.  “Sorry, Scott,” Stiles breathed. 

They remained in the room awkwardly, Derek looking at the papers on Stiles’s desk. One had a “contract” on it- something interesting. Derek picked it up, scanning for what it might be.

It was for him. Stiles didn’t seem to notice or care that Derek was rifling through important documents on his desk. Derek glanced their contract over, reading the fine print. It would save time if he read it now, he justified.

Surprisingly, he noted, Stiles had made sure _he_ couldn’t slander Derek as well as keeping Derek from slandering him. Rather than an agreement that only protected Stiles, it was pretty equal. He ended up reading all of the fine print, well aware that if he dated Stiles for three months, he’d break even if he ever dared speak about Stiles to the press. 

He checked his watch; it was twenty minutes after the event should have started. He checked back at Stiles- a different window was open. Stiles was stalling. 

“I have a question about the contract, when you have a moment,” Derek said smoothly, “And about tonight.” 

Stiles flinched at the second set of words but he nodded, finishing up and saving the document before turning around. He looked nervously at Derek before nodding. “Go for it.” 

Derek pointed to particular paragraph. “I’m not to talk to the press at all, or simply not if we should end our arrangement? You mentioned something about the press earlier-“

Relief washed through Stiles’s face and he picked up a different copy. “You raise a good point,” Stiles murmured. “Let’s make an amendment- if I’m there, we talk to the press together, if not, please don’t. And I won’t say anything about you without you there, either.” He turned to his computer and typed it out. “I’ve got a lawyer downstairs who can be a witness, if that’s the only thing.” The printer sprung to life and Derek cocked an eyebrow. 

“About the contract? Yes.” Derek eyed his watch suspiciously. 

“Hey, it’s time together, isn’t it?” Stiles shot back defensively- far too defensively. “Your end of the bargain is still good.” 

Derek held up his hands in a surrendering gesture. “I wanted to make sure this contract signing wasn’t making you late for an important meeting,” Derek offered, using what he hoped would be a calming, pacifying voice. 

Stiles flustered. “Look, that’s really none of your business. I-“ 

“When he dresses like that, of course it’s his business,” a female voice snapped. “You don’t make a man wear a tux and _not_ take him to town, Stiles.” 

Stiles winced. Derek spun around the room, facing a fierce strawberry blonde-haired woman in the doorway. “I’m Lydia Martin,” she introduced herself, heels clipping against the floor. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Erek.” She looked him over, judging him with her gaze.

There had been worse gazes in his life. He wouldn’t let himself be bothered. Smoothly he got up, taking her hand. “You too, Miss Martin,” he agreed, shaking her hand firmly. She broke into a grin and then turned to Stiles. 

“Keep this one,” she commented. “He’s got a manners, at least. And a good sense of style.” 

Stiles frowned. “I just need you to be an official witness,” the billionaire told her. “Not to talk about-“

She cut him off. “How you’re avoiding a party thrown in your honor?” 

Derek’s eyebrow raised, but he said nothing. Stiles looked at the floor. “I can be fashionably late,” he reasoned. 

Lydia clucked her tongue. “He can’t,” she informed Derek. “He’s skipping to many of these things already-“

“That’s enough, Lydia,” Stiles snapped. The air remained cold and heavy between them.

Angry today. Testy. Derek took note; it would be good to know in the future. “Well,” Derek remarked in hopes to break the tension, “I’ve been told my scowl can scare off a lot of people we might meet there.” 

Stiles looked up, surprised, but quickly broke out into a grin. His bad mood seemed to dissipate instantly. “Of course you’d remember that,” Stiles chirpped, signing his version of the contract. He handed it to Derek, along with the pen. 

Derek signed the contract, pleased with the new statement. Lydia looked over the paperwork, noting the amendment, and placed her stamp on the paper. “Good. I’ll see you both there, then,” she warned. “And Stiles, Copyright Guy’s meeting has changed- he’ll be a half-hour later than usual.” With that, she clipped back out of the office.

“Impressive lady,” Derek murmured to himself. 

Stiles sighed and leaned back in the chair, having overheard Derek. “Yeah. She is.” He reached into a drawer, pulling out an envelope full of money again. “Do you want this now or after the party?”

Derek regarded the envelope, tempted to just reach for it. “After the party,” Derek answered. “I don’t really have pockets in this thing.” He pointed to his tux in emphasis. 

Stiles chuckled at that. He closed his eyes as he leaned his head back to think, exposing his neck. 

The thought of kissing that neck popped into Derek’s mind. Stiles was handsome, attractive, and Derek could distract him from the party. He felt a little sorry for the billionaire, and maybe if he gave him a little kiss- 

Stiles kept talking, jarring Derek from his fantasy. “They always judge me, you know. It’s not enough to have a business, but nobody thinks I’ll be able to keep my money. I’m too young.” He breathed. “Nobody believes in me.” 

Derek nodded in sympathy, thinking of his own insecurities. Stiles looked so vulnerable, and right on their second meet- 

Shit, he thought, feeling his heart twinge. _People were attracted to vulnerable people_. ‘’ It was why Erica was so good at what she did. And Stiles wasn’t even being vulnerable on purpose, letting his guard down for Derek. Panic started to well through him as he took another look at his desire to kiss Stiles- to _comfort_ Stiles and-

That was okay. Derek breathed. He could do this. He could tuck that away, file it under attraction and empathy. 

“I’d like to think you made a good investment,” Derek offered, forcing himself to stop thinking about why he felt so sympathetic to the younger man in front of him. 

Stiles smiled again at that. “Yeah. Let’s go do this, huh? That’s why you’re here.”

 Stiles looked at the envelope. The mood immediately turned sour. Derek felt ruffled at the implied thought- Stiles thought he was an employee. That’s not how their relationship worked. 

Stiles must have caught his sour expression because he quickly reached over and patted Derek’s hand in a good emulation of what Derek had done at their previous encounter. “Hey,” he offered. “Don’t worry about it. I know hot guys like you don’t go for guys like me.”

Stiles let go of Derek’s wrist, unaware of the challenge in his words. Derek sharply stood, watching as Stiles put on his jacket. Stiles moved ahead of him, ready to head out. 

“Stiles,” Derek called out from behind him. 

Stiles spun around, his mouth doing some strange sort of open mouthed lip syncing. “Ye-llo? We going or what?” 

Or what. Derek reached out and grabbed the billionaire’s tie. “It’s not on straight,” Derek murmured, hands suddenly around Stiles’s neck and threading his tie. Stiles stood stiffly and awkwardly as Derek tied a knot, hooking it tightly back into place. 

“Thanks,” Stiles commented, relaxing.

The sugar baby allowed himself an evil grin- his gesture wasn’t purely to help Stiles. Stiles didn’t have enough time to be suspicious as Derek tugged on Stiles’s tie, forcing the younger man forward. Taking advantage of Stiles’s lack of balance, he wrapped his hands around Stiles’s back, holding him steady as he brought his lips closer to the younger man’s. 

“Stiles,” he whispered, feeling Stiles’s breath against his own lips. 

Stiles made a slight squeaking noise. “Y-yeah?” His breath hitched slightly as he answered. 

“I’m here because I want to be, understand? I do what I _want_ to do.” He kept his gaze on Stiles’s eyes, waiting for the understanding to break in. 

There was understanding, slowly. And followed by what looked like doubt. 

Derek let Stiles go, hands caressing his cheek. Soft skin met his fingertips; Stiles looked like he might just ask Derek to forget the whole evening and spend it in this office. “Bet you say that to all the sugar daddies,” Stiles joked darkly. 

Derek let go of his tie in exasperation. “Let’s discuss this afterwards,” he suggested. True, Stiles’s money played a big factor into wanting to be with him. But if there hadn’t been some attraction, this would have all been fucked. Derek couldn’t fake attraction. 

“Good calls,” Stiles agreed quickly, happy to change the subject. “There’s an old guy at this party, Bobby? Ignore him. He’s an ass.” 

Derek raised an eyebrow. “Shall I glare at him any time he talks to you?” he asked, and Stiles shook his head. 

“Nah. You should just wrap your arms around me and pretend to be in love with me-“ Stiles trailed off as Derek did just that, his hands firm and snug around Stiles’s shoulder. They weren’t really that different in height, so Derek pressed his mouth easily against Stiles’s ear. 

“Like this?” he asked, unable to keep himself from teasing, keeping his breath low in his mouth for a warm, hot rush of air against Stiles’s ear. 

Stiles’s voice cracked just a little. “Yeah, like that.” He shifted a bit. “You know, this is infinitely more preferable than the party.” 

Derek let him go. “Well then,” he continued, “If you need a break in the bathroom for cuddles, let me know.”

Stiles gave him a light punch, picking up his briefcase. “Sounds like a plan,” he agreed. He paused for a moment, as if wanting to say something else, but he let it go. Derek followed him out to the elevator, eyes trained on Stiles’s ass. 

Derek had this. Tonight would be easy.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter. Next one will be longer. Hopefully it'll be up next week and not two weeks from now. :)


	4. Chapter 4

Stiles had a _driver_.

Stiles had a _limo_.

The cocky man turned to Derek, grinning as Derek could barely contain his excitement behind a calm face. He had yet to be inside a limo in his life.

Derek could not have been ecstatic enough as the driver opened the door for him. The older man scooted across the j-seat towards the front of the car, ignoring the very open bar in front of him for now. Stiles crawled in after him, watching Derek’s reaction with a smile on his face. 

“Impressive?” he asked, cockily waiting for Derek’s enthusiasm.

Derek kept his cool. “It’ll do,” he announced despite his feelings. “Purple lights and a chandelier might really impress me.” 

Stiles laughed at that, laying down on the length of seat. The car started to roll forward. “I hate these kind of things,” Stiles murmured, keeping his eyes closed. Derek assumed he was talking about the party and not the limo. “I might take you up on your cuddle offer.” 

Derek snorted, unsurprised. Stiles might have pushed for more than the cuddle offer in the bathroom if they chose to head there, given how he kept sneaking glances at Derek on the walk to the limo. 

Derek sat back and watched the cars pass by, noting Stiles’s breathing. Inhale for four seconds-

Derek sat back, knowing it well. “Hey,” he said, reaching over and taking Stiles’s hand. Stiles pulled away a little, just enough to tip Derek off that he didn’t like being touched, and Derek let the hand fall back to its original position. “Tell me about the people there.” 

Stiles sighed, but did as he was told, probably grateful for the distraction. “Scott McCall,” he announced, as if that was the only name Derek needed to hear.

It was an impressive name. McCall, as in of the McCall firm. Scott was a son, but he was moving up rapidly in the company. Derek would be leaving with that number tattooed on his ass if he had to. Derek nodded, his normal tactic for listening. Stiles sat up, his shoulders slumped forward. 

“He’s my best friend, you know? We’re both from the same town.” Stiles reached over to the bar, pulling out a glass. “Scotch,” he mumbled to himself, looking for the brown liquid. 

Joining in the search, Derek soon found the bottle. “Allow me,” he purred, pouring Stiles a double. Stiles took it graciously, sending a grin and a long, appreciative glance at Derek. 

“The rest of them are bastards,” Stiles mumbled. “Ennis, Kali-“

Kali. Derek was’t sure how many women are named Kali, but he wondered if they were the same woman. Either way, he wouldn’t be speaking much to her. 

Stiles continued. “-you can glare at them all and stay next to me.” 

“All right,” Derek agreed, eyes back on the cars they passed on the road. Their lights seemed fleeting and fast, like dying falling stars. “Sounds like a plan. Stick next to you. Fawn over you. Glare at people.” 

“Kill people if I give you the secret code,” Stiles added jokingly. “You look like you’d make a good assassin.” 

Derek let out a little laugh at that, which surprised and pleased him that Stiles could pull such a laugh out of him. Stiles looked smugly at his glass. Quickly Derek decided to try and feed that emotion, that sense of self-confidence. “I knew there was a reason I liked you,” he teased. 

Given how Stiles flushed a little and fidgeted, Derek’s comment was a success. He hoped that little seed of information and confidence would eventually choke out the idea of Derek only being with Stiles for his money. 

Stiles kept yammering on about the different people, including an asshole named Rafa. Derek knew he was the lead of the McCall company, so though he wanted to bite his head off on Stiles’s behalf, he’d keep things calm and civil. Well, calm enough.

Finally the limo pulled into the building’s parking lot. Stiles gave one last desperate look at Derek, then at the door to the limo. “You should hug me again. For good luck.” 

Derek scooted over to him, his arms reaching around his front and pulling Stiles’s back to his chest. He didn’t worry about Stiles’s suit. The billionaire had ruined it himself by laying on the seats. Stiles’s heartbeat pounded against his hands, and Derek held on tightly, trying to send something comforting to the other man. 

“Are there balconies there?” he asked. 

Stiles turned around, raising an eyebrow. 

Derek sighed. This is what he got for talking: miscommunication. “When I panic, I like to head to the balcony. It helps me clear my head.”

Stiles shook his head. “Nope. Gotta stick with the bathroom.” He gave a little squeeze to Derek’s hands. “But thanks.” 

Breathing calmly, Stiles escaped from Derek’s grip and headed towards the door. “Come on then,” Stiles remarked. “I’m going to hang off the arm of a beautiful man all night.”

 

***

 

Stiles did hold tightly to his arm as he entered the building. Derek had expected that. 

But when they headed up the elevator and entered the ball room, he hadn’t expected the slick confidence Stiles dressed himself in. They had missed all the speeches, but all the heads turned to stare at them. 

They made quite a couple, Derek thought, both handsome men with their spines straight. Stiles gave a little grin as if to imply _Derek_ was the reason he was late. The sugar baby paid it no mind, giving Stiles’s arm one last squeeze, a clear claim to everyone in the room. 

“Stiles,” a woman nearly purred as she stepped towards them. 

The billionaire’s smile stayed in place though his arm squeezed Derek a little tighter, letting go and taking her hand. “Thank you so much for coming, Kali.” There wasn’t any hint of awkwardness or stuttering, Derek realized. Stiles knew how to play this game. Why he needed Derek, he didn’t know, but Stiles continued on his suave performance

“I’m glad to see you showed tonight,” Kali continued. “I was worried we’d miss you again.” Her eyes flickered up to Derek, making false connections with her head. She pulled Stiles to the side, whispering in his ear, but Derek heard anyway. “What a good catch. If I had a man half as good as that, I’d miss these things myself.” 

Stiles laughed, not fake or forced. Just enough of an honest laugh that Kali seemed pleased, thinking she’d earned her favor with the two of them. Derek had seen women like her before- it wasn’t hard to imagine what she was doing.

Kali left and Stiles retook Derek’s arm, his grip the only thing giving away his nerves. His smile never wavered and neither did Derek’s neutral face as Stiles lead him to the bar, heading for a few more drinks despite his pre-game scotch. 

Derek made a note to watch out for any drunk behaviors.

“How lovely to see you again, darling,” an older grey woman said from behind them, sneaking up the bar.

“Good evening, Myrtle,” Stiles stated, giving Derek his drink to hold and shaking her hand. “Good to see you here.” He tipped his glass to her and drank a little too quickly for Derek’s liking, as Myrtle continued to talk about a potential business offer. 

“Unfortunately, I’m not interested right now,” Stiles told her as he ordered his second glass. 

“Well, maybe your partner?” She asked, looking at Derek. Derek wasn’t sure if he should open his mouth to speak, but Stiles spoke for him. 

“He’s not that kind of partner.” 

Myrtle’s eyes went wide. “Oh,” she said in surprise, and then looked them over, and then her eyes narrowed in judgement. “ _Oh_ ,” she seethed. “I see how it is.” She turned herself around and left them at the bar, heading straight for the door. 

“Thank God,” Stiles breathed, moving his glass against Derek’s. “She’s been bothering me forever. Hopefully she’ll stop now.” 

Derek nodded his agreement, sitting next to Stiles on the bar stools. He rested his hand against Stiles’s elbow, noting how easily Stiles relaxed at his touch. Derek filed that information away. He liked that Stiles trusted him, that he calmed Stiles down, and he could use that in the future. But right now, tonight was about Stiles. 

“Stiles!” Came a voice behind them, and Stiles stood up, Derek’s hand falling back to Derek’s lap. A broad-shouldered man walked up to them, greatly squeezing Stiles’s hand. Derek kept his drink on the table, watching curiously but not engaging on the conversation between Stiles and Rafa McCall. “I’m so glad you finally made it. I was afraid you weren’t beginning to show.” The words were dripping with condescension and judgement. Derek felt his back stiffen.

“I was a little _busy_ ,” Stiles replied, stepping closer to Derek and wrapping his hand around Derek’s arm. _Ah,_ Derek thought as the realization dawned on him. It wasn’t that Stiles was afraid of everyone. Rather, Stiles wanted protection from particular people. Rafa McCall happened to be one of them. 

“Playing on the computer?” Rafa shot Stiles a cold look.

Stiles didn’t even look like he had a remark. Instead he looked like a bundle of anger and frustration. “Sorry to have kept him,” Derek replied cooly, holding out his own hand. “It’s nice to meet you.” 

Rafa looked him over for a moment, finally taking his hand. “The pleasure is all mine,” Rafa lied, but at least he seemed polite about it. Despite Rafa’s coolness, Derek kept his smile and pretended nothing was wrong. It took Rafa aback for a moment, which is what Derek wanted. This man was in the business. He wanted to be remembered.

“Dad,” came a quick cry, and Stiles dropped Derek’s arm for the first time. 

“Scott,” he greeted, the cold smile replaced with something much more warm and friendly. The CEO turned to face the man coming at them, his arms wide and inviting. 

Stiles’s grip loosened substantially at Scott’s appearance. “Thank God,” Stiles murmured, and Derek remembered the man Stiles had mentioned in his office before they’d arrived. This must have been Scott.

Scott instantly stepped between Stiles and Rafa, a very pointed move. Derek took note that the relationship between Rafa and Stiles must always be bad. “I told you he’d show,” Scott defended. The sugar baby stayed quiet, unsure if it was his place to say something or not. Stiles’s hand dropped from Derek’s arm, however, a signal that things were all right with him.

Rafa shrugged and left, headed over to where Kali stood in a corner. 

“I thought you weren’t coming,” Stiles said pointedly. “You said you weren’t coming.” 

Scott’s face looked sheepish, a trait Derek would probably spend hours trying to mimic in the mirror tomorrow. “I wasn’t supposed to come with you,” Scott apologized, but then slung his arm around Stiles’s shoulders and continued chattering. 

Both men were oblivious to the fact that Stiles had just abandoned his date, but Derek didn’t mind. He set his drink down, looking around for anything other than drinking. A buffet. Tables. Nothing very helpful at all. 

Stiles had ordered another drink while Derek was looking around, and took another sip. Derek winced; he was not looking forward to hauling Stiles’s ass home tonight. “Alright,” Stiles announced, standing up, “I’m going to go talk to _them_.” He waved goodbye to Scott and left both men behind as he moved towards a group of investors on the opposite side of the room. 

“Is he always like that?” Derek asked. 

Scott jumped. “Jeez, man!” Scott stated, looking up at him. His frown turned into a puzzled gaze, and then horror. “I didn’t mean to hog him,” Scott said quickly. “Crap. He just abandoned you, huh?” 

“I expected as much,” Derek replied smoothly. It wasn’t a lie; Jennifer always abandoned him halfway through her meetings. _I’m really just pretty arm-candy_ , he added to himself.

Scott looked affronted on his behalf. “Well, I’m upset for you, man. Can I get you a drink or something?” 

Derek shook his head. “Thanks for the offer, though. I have a feeling Stiles is drinking enough for both of us tonight.” 

Scott looked over at his friend, then back at the empty glass on the bar. “Yeah,” he said sadly, forlornly. Most business partners didn’t act like that. Scott and Stiles must have been really good friends. “Thanks for dragging him here, though,” Scott added, trying to steer the conversation to more optimistic topics. “And you must be Erek, right? He’s talked a lot about you. I’m Scott McCall,” the friend added, holding out his hand. 

It was probably the first hand Derek was enthusiastic to shake all night. Scott was optimistic, light-hearted, but here he was in the thick of things and still kept to his attitudes and convictions, not playing the game of flattery and half-subtle insults. 

At least, as far as Derek had seen. 

He liked Scott. There was no doubt Stiles liked him for this reason as well. Scott’s personality was infectious. 

“Nice to meet you,” Derek replied. “Though you should thank Lydia for getting him out here.” 

Scott laughed. “I’ll bet, I’ll bet,” he stated cheerfully. He looked over at Stiles, who was talking and gesturing wildly. “How long have you been dating?” The question came out of nowhere. Scott’s eyes hadn’t even fallen on Derek at all before the question.

Luckily, Derek had an answer ready. “A little bit.” Derek looked over at Stiles, who had turned and looked a little surprised at the two men sitting at the bar. “He has energy all the time, just go go go. It’s impressive.” 

Scott laughed. “That he is. How did you guys meet, anyway?” 

“Online,” Derek replied, noting Stiles looking between the two, chattering but eyeing for an exit. _Tough luck_ , Derek thought. _Those types never shut up_.

Scott nodded. “I’m really glad, you know?” This time he did turn to Derek. “I mean, I’m sure you know who he is and all, but still, this is the most relaxed I’ve ever seen him.” Something caught Scott’s eye, and he gave Derek a sad smile.

 “Dang. I’m being summoned. Hope to see you around.” He shook Derek’s had goodbye and headed over to Rafa. 

Stiles was still caught in a crowd of powerful rich men, so Derek allowed himself some time to reflect on Scott. He seemed like a nice enough fellow. And what he had said about Stiles being relaxed surprised Derek. The sugar baby hadn’t thought Stiles relaxed at all. 

A beep from his pocket rang. Noting how far Stiles was from him, Derek reached into his pocket and checked the message. 

A text from Erica. She was alright, just checking in and letting him know she’d arrived home safely. Derek replied, “Got it,” and sent the text, the phone still in his hand.

His reflection in the large window caught his eye. There he sat, a kid from Beacon Hills whose life had taken a turn for the worse, in the middle of an event full of people who had more money than his hometown combined. And at this event, Derek looked dashing. There wasn’t anything physically wrong with him.

Yet somehow he felt unsatisfied. Even Jennifer wasn’t gone from his side this long. 

Derek shook his head. He wasn’t there to be needy and want attention right now. He was there to give Stiles support, and after this event he’d express his dissatisfaction at the lack of attention from Stiles.

Derek shook his head. This was silly. He needed to behave like an adult. If Stiles didn’t want to pay attention to him, that was fine- he could entertain himself. And if this was how Stiles behaved at parties, well, it was easy money-

“You okay?” came Stiles’s concerned voice. Derek jerked up from his thoughts. His party date stood next to his side, not quite sitting. Stiles looked a little sheepish, his face flushed and eyes wide. “Sorry for abandoning you there.” Stiles took another drink of the liquor, body swaying just a little. 

Mentally Derek slapped himself. He’d let himself go into a frown, exhausted by all of the efforts he was making to fit in. “Sorry,” he told Stiles. “I’m having fun, I’m just tired.” He should have been paying more attention. 

The billionaire nodded, accepting Derek’s answer while he glared at Derek’s phone. “Responding to someone?” he asked, his eyes flickering down in what Derek knew to be jealousy. 

Right now, he needed to appease Stiles, to assure him he was foremost in Derek’s mind.

“No,” Derek assured him, “My roommate texted me that she got home safely.” He held his phone out to show Stiles the message.

“Your sister, right? Erica?” Stiles asked, raising an eyebrow. Even drunk he had scouted out a weakness in Derek’s previous story.  

“Right,” Derek agreed smoothly, sticking the phone back in his pocket and making a note to keep his lies a little more vague in the future. “Sorry, I forgot I told you about her.” 

Stiles looked away, gazing over the party as he finished his glass. “You only respond,” he murmured. 

Derek looked up, a bit confused. Stiles pointedly avoided looking at him, and then it dawned on Derek what Stiles meant. He’d noticed Derek never sent him texts.

“Usually people want me to be discreet,” Derek explained softly, taking Stiles’s glass from his hands and setting it gently on the table. Stiles’s face was even more flushed than moments before, so Derek ordered a water for him. “So I respond. I don’t send texts because I don’t want to be annoying. I don’t want expose our secret if it is a secret.” 

Stiles continued to look away, the conversation perhaps a little too emotional for him. Derek could guess what Stiles wanted.  “Do you want me to text you more often?” he asked gently, hand wrapping around Stiles’s wrist.

Stiles didn’t answer. 

“It’s no trouble for me, Stiles,” Derek replied. “It’s a habit of mine, and I’m sorry, I didn’t realize this wasn’t a discreet affair.” 

Stiles snorted at that. 

“You wanted my looks, not my brains,” Derek continued, dryly. His heart lifted as Stiles let out a grin at that. Stiles wasn’t that angry with him. “If you want me to do something, you need to be straightforward about it, alright? Our relationship takes communication.” 

Stiles nodded, turning to grab the water, and Derek stood up next to him, torsos facing each other, looking Stiles directly in the eyes. “Stiles,” he assured. “I want to make you happy. If messaging you more will make you happy, I’ll gladly do it.” Derek placed his hand underneath Stiles’s chin, forcing the other man to look up at him. “Tell me when you’re unhappy. I just didn’t think you wanted to be bothered that often.” 

 _That_ seemed to get through Stiles’s drunk state, and Derek was relieved he didn’t have to say too much more. Sometimes drunk men couldn’t be reasoned with, no matter how clearly Derek tried to explain things. Luckily, Stiles did not seem to be one of those men.

Instead, Stiles relaxed at his words, his eyes scanning over Derek’s face. “Oh.” The tone seemed relieved. _What on earth was going through his head,_ Derek wondered, _other than low-self-esteem? What made this insecurity pop up?_

The billionaire continued. “Okay. Bother me next time.” His tongue darted out as he licked his lips, eyes were fixated on Derek’s face and halfway clouded with lust. From experience, Derek knew _exactly_ what Stiles was thinking about. 

Suddenly Stiles’s eyes flicked away, almost ashamed of being caught. “And I’ll try to tell you stuff more often,” the billionaire agreed. “Sorry. I’m drunk.” 

“I know.” Derek released his face. Stiles kept looking up at him, eyes wide and hopeful, lips parted. It’d be so easy to claim those lips now, Derek thought, but he refrained. It was only the second date, after all, and Stiles was drunk.

A loud click sounded from Derek’s right. Both men turned in the direction of the photographer, a smiling man with a camera around his neck. He’d gotten his money shot for tonight. The sugar baby was about to tell him to leave, unsure just how much Stiles wanted to flaunt him when Stiles himself answered the question.

The younger man immediately latched onto Derek’s arm, sticking his tongue out at the photographer. “He’s all mine,” Stiles announced proudly, and the photographer laughed openly as Derek attempted to tenderly hold onto Stiles’s hand and keep him upright at the same time.

“You’re quite a handsome couple,” the photographer assured them, taking another photo. “Congratulations on your company’s anniversary, Mr. Stilinski.” 

Derek raised an eyebrow, but Stiles thanked the man, his hand tightening around Derek’s arm and body weight resting against Derek’s. “Thanks,” Stiles replied, his voice taut and cold. Derek grabbed his hand in return, moving his head low to whisper in Stiles’s ear. 

“I’m pretending to whisper important things to you,” he teased. Stiles’s face broke out into a grin. “Maybe photographer man will take the hint and go away.” The billionaire gave a chuckle into Derek’s arm. How had his mouth gotten there, anyway?.

But the photographer didn’t take the hint, unfortunately, hands twitching along his camera. Stiles turned away from Derek’s upper arm and closer to his jaw. The alcohol in Stiles’s breath was hard to miss, but something minty lay underneath his breath. Derek immediately opened his mouth to taste more of it as Stiles pressed his nose against Derek’s cheek, face flushed, eyelashes long, eyes themselves looking slightly shy and cautious, like Stiles was indulging himself on a forbidden sin.

Something inside Derek _wanted_.

“Well then,” Stiles breathed against his skin, and Derek was aware of the camera going. He was aware of all the eyes in the room on them, but what had his attention was the heat radiating off of Stiles’s skin against his own, how close their bodies were, how he’d never gotten this worked up this fast.

 _It’s good to have attraction_ , Derek reminded himself. _Good not to fake it._

The photographer seemed convinced he had a genuine moment instead of the fake one they were improvising before him, taking another couple of photos. Stiles didn’t seem to pay it any mind, his eyes shutting and sighing before making his suggestion. “Let’s head out, shall we?”

Derek opened his mouth to agree. That’s all he had meant to do, but the drunk next to him took his open mouth as an invitation, lips moving easily over to the side of Derek’s mouth and gave him a peck. A wet and sloppy peck, but a peck nonetheless. 

The taste of alcohol was sobering enough. Derek pushed Stiles away, somewhat pleased at the physical affirmation of Stiles’s attraction to him while worried Stiles would regret this the next day. He nodded his agreement, trying to look a lot more shocked at Stiles than he was and hoped Stiles would think him surprised out of responding rather than Derek’s desire to not respond to someone as wasted as Stiles was at the moment.

Stiles didn’t notice at all, body moving towards the exit. The grip on his arm now lead him instead of depended on him, and Stiles nearly shoved Derek in the elevator, mouth giddy. “What a way to leave a party,” he mumbled to himself. “They must all think we’re fucking.” 

“Probably thought that the moment you brought me in,” Derek agreed, smiling alongside Stiles. The billionaire laughed, draping his body all over Derek. 

“Nah. Guys like you don’t get guys like me,” Stiles assured him, but kept his body pressed against Derek, his suit wrinkled and wet in places Derek was sure Stiles had spilled liquor. 

The elevator announced its arrival to the basement with a beep, doors opening. Limo man was already prepared for them, opening the door. Stiles pushed Derek inside, nearly casing Derek to trip over the briefcase. Derek recovered in time to take his seat by the driver’s window. Stiles clambered in behind him, actually tripping over the briefcase and sprawling out on the seat. 

The driver shut the door, climbing in behind the steering wheel. “Two hours later than I expected,” he stated softly to Derek. “Good job.”

“All him,” Derek admitted. Inwardly, though, he was pleased. Scott had mentioned it, the driver mentioned it. Derek was an _asset_. That’d keep him on Stiles’s payroll a little longer. He moved closer to Stiles, helping him sit upright in the back of the limo. 

“Can we drive you back to your apartment?” Stiles asked him, eyes shining with hope. Derek gave a sad grin- policy was policy. It would be too dangerous right now to give his home address to someone he’d only had two dates with.

“The neighborhood, if you don’t mind,” Derek informed both Stiles and the driver. When Stiles’s face fell, as he supposed it would. Immediately he attempted to pacify Stiles with an explanation. “I’ve had a couple of stalkers follow me to my apartment. I’m really protective of that now.”

The anger looked a little less directed at him, though Stiles turned over and sat up, eyes on the window. “Oh,” Stiles murmured, the limo moving forward and carrying them away from the party. “Okay. What neighborhood?” 

Derek informed the driver, noting Stiles gaze at him from the corner of his eye. When Derek finished his neighborhood, the driver shut the window, leaving the two of them alone. Stiles drunkenly sighed and Derek opened the minibar to pour him another water.

They moved around the bend, some water spilling out of the glass and onto the counter, but Derek kept pouring, finally setting the bottle down and handing the glass to Stiles. Stiles drank it greedily, handing it back to Derek for a refill immediately. “Thanks.” 

“You’re welcome,” Derek replied, filling it up with water. “I hate hangovers. I wouldn’t want you to have one tomorrow.” He handed the glass to Stiles’s again. 

Stiles drank it again, setting the glass down and shaking his head when Derek moved to pour him another. “No way, man. I’m all sloshy inside and stuff.” He did look a little green, so Derek put the bottle away in the mini-bar, wondering if they had any anti-nausea stuff. 

“Do you ever have sex with your sugar daddies?” Stiles blurted out of nowhere. Derek looked back at Stiles in surprise. He hadn’t expected that question, but then again, Stiles was drunk and had been attempting to flirt with Derek all night. Stiles buried his face in his hands.

Derek forced a laugh, hoping it wouldn’t sound so judgmental. His sex was none of Stiles’s business but the question revealed more about Stiles’s interest and inner thoughts than Stiles had probably meant. Stiles was definitely thinking about sex with Derek. 

Derek could use that. 

“Sure,” Derek began nonchalantly. “But usually we talk about it first. I didn’t know you if you were interested,” he teased, and Stiles inhaled again, listening with wide eyes peeking through his fingers.

“What kind of sex?” Very drunk indeed. 

Derek let himself think back, pretending it was something he fondly thought of. “Great sex,” he allowed, pretending to lose himself in the memory. Truth be told, he hadn’t had great sex for a while. He hadn’t had any sex enthusiastically for a while.

The billionaire seemed slightly disappointed and his hands covered his face again. Derek continued, trying to save the conversation. “So yes, I’ve had sex with my sugar daddies. The same way any boyfriend would, right?” He looked over at Stiles, unsure of why sex was such a strange thing to this man. “How about you?” he asked. “You ever have sex with your sugar babies?” he teased, knowing the answer: No sugar babies= no sex with them. 

Stiles shook his head and his attention changed, eyes narrowing on Derek’s chin, his hands reaching up to play with the stubble on Derek’s chin. “You’re… really manly, you know.” 

“I know,” Derek replied, grabbing Stiles’s hands and holding them gently. “You’re really drunk.” 

“I know,” Stiles mocked back at him, but he looked pleased. Groaning, he moved to lean against Derek’s shoulder. “Thanks for tonight, you manhunk.” 

Derek snorted, placing Stiles’s hands in Stiles’s lap. “Thank you for taking me, Daddy.” 

Stiles wiggled as he ran that thought around in his head. Eventually, the billionaire’s eyes shut and he spent the next couple of minutes dozing in and out. It was rather cute how Stiles could easily forget how important he was. Derek watched him sleep only for a little bit. 

The limo hit a pothole and Stiles jerked awake. “Wha?” he asked, and Derek shrugged. Stiles blinked, eyes groggy, before settling his gaze on Derek. “Erek,” Stiles began, “Would you mind going to a ball game with me on Sunday?” 

Derek raised an eyebrow. “But the Wagons are playing.” Derek muttered, his voice incredulous. No way. No hardcore Jaybird fan would ever buy a Wagon ticket. 

“My secretary bought them. Technically.” Stiles’s eyes were hopeful. “Please?”

Derek’s mouth had been open the entire time. “I’d love to,” Derek finally managed, and Stiles snuggled back into his side.

They pulled up to the bridge that marked Derek’s neighborhood. The limo slowed to the side, and Derek shook Stiles. Groggily, Stiles reached for the briefcase and opened it, handing Derek the envelope. 

“Thanks again for tonight,” Stiles uttered, eyes fixated on Derek. “I’ll be sure to drink more water when I get home.”

“Good.” Derek leaned forward, watching Stiles’s mouth part in anticipation. But Derek had no interest in Stiles’s mouth tonight, and instead placed a chaste peck on the side of Stiles’s cheek, bypassing Stiles’s liquor breath quite smoothly. “Night, Daddy,” he added coyly. 

Stiles stared at him open-mouthed as Derek shimmed out of the limo and into the night, stretching after being cramped in the small space. He turned to wave goodbye but was met with a different image: Before the driver closed the door, he could see Stiles giving the air fist pump. 

Once the limo was out of sight, Derek performed one of his own. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the delay in posting! As I told another commenter, I came back from my job in Japan with massive GAD and Panic Disorder. While not fun (see: crippling), I'm learning to manage this before heading to my next job. Currently, a panic attack takes me out for days. So updates will be varied timewise. 
> 
> I do plan to finish the fic, and I have all the chapters outlined (chapter five is even written). The editing is usually what kills me in terms of time and energy. Ideally, the timeframe for this fic is to finish it before mid-October, but we'll see.
> 
> A lot of you have been super supportive and telling me to take the time I need to get better. Thank you so much for your kind words. <3 I'm trying to take care of myself as best I can.


	5. Chapter 5

He was pushing into Stiles, choking on that tight heat. Each time he so much as flexed his solar plexus the billionaire would cry out, half-choked cries as his hands dug into Derek’s back. Derek couldn’t see Stiles’s eyes, but he knew they were squeezed tight, just like how his legs were wrapped tightly around Derek’s waist.

He leaned down and licked a stripe down Stiles’s throat, tasting the sweat that built there, feeling Stiles’s body flex and adjust at the sudden weight pinning him to the bed. “So good, Stiles,” he whispered along the billionaire’s jaw, noting how Stiles trembled from sheer overload of pleasure. 

Derek forced himself back up, hips jutting a couple of times into Stiles’s heat. Stiles’s legs pressed against his back, trying to get the sugar baby to take him deeper. 

Well, if his sugar daddy wanted it, Derek thought, adjusting to take his bodyweight on his knees, not his hands, and lifted his legs and pressed them backward, until Stiles was folded in half, determined to enjoy this moment for as long as he could. Something inside him told him it wouldn’t be long. 

Stiles’s hands caught in Derek’s hair, his lips wet and parted. His eyes trailed over Derek’s form and caught his gaze, something honest and breaking and safe. Derek stopped thrusting into the man, suddenly afraid of the onslaught of emotion. He knew that look. 

“Don’t stop,” Stiles pleaded, and Derek continued, keeping up the pace as Stiles held the sugar baby hostage with his gaze, so very loving, so very secure. Derek was safe here. 

No, Derek wasn’t- 

He wasn’t safe anywhere-

“I love you,” Stiles murmured and Derek found himself slipping, clawing his way up to the surface, unable to deal with the emotions that ransacked through his body. 

His eyes flung open to blue, his heart racing and his mind shifting from the pleasant emotions of the dream to the harsh realities of the world. He took a couple of breaths. Not a nightmare, but still too much for him. 

Derek put his head in his hands. He was in love. Maybe. His heart had started to betray him, seeing Stiles not as a client but a potential boyfriend. Derek knew these feelings. He knew what happened because of them. Terrible things happened. 

 _No love in sugaring_ , he reminded himself. “It’s attraction. Affection. It won’t grow.” Mentally he pictured himself stifling the feelings like hacking off branches of a tree. Love was dangerous. 

Affection and attraction were good in maintaining relationships. It was easy enough to see when someone was faking a relationship, or lying their way through flirtation. So that he had been attracted towards Stiles, that wasn’t a bad thing, and he’d encouraged that. But if it became love… 

Love was dangerous. For starters, it lead to bad business transactions, giving away the milk for free. It lead to forgiving someone when they repeatedly forgot to pay you. It allowed you to be taken advantage of. It lead to hurt feelings and sometimes stalking and abuse. Or tolerating abuse. 

Love was a bad idea.

This feeling wasn’t love, Derek assured himself. Just attraction and loneliness grasping onto each other in  his mind. Besides, Stiles and Derek hadn’t even known each other long enough for it to be considered love. Stiles didn’t know his real name, even. It was just the honeymoon phase of their relationship.

A light flickered from outside his window, drawing his attention for a moment. The clarity it brought allowed Derek to step back from his dream just a little. But despite his best efforts, he couldn’t shake the words from the dream. They clung to him, a pleasant feeling that Derek didn’t want to shake just yet.

Remembering Stiles’s words about texting, Derek reached for his phone. Stupidly he typed in a message and sent it, too groggy to think of how easily it could have backfired.

**Message To: Stiles**

Dreamt of you.

**End Message**

He closed his eyes and turned over, determined to fall asleep again, maybe in a not so intense dream, but one equally pleasant.

His phone dinged. Derek swung his arm over and searched for it blindly on his phone, letting himself smile a bit before reading the message.

**Message From: Stiles**

Good dream?

**End Message.**

Derek typed in another message. “When you're there,” he replied, "they always are.” 

Stiles didn’t type a message back. Derek imagined he’d put a big blush on that face, one big and pleasant enough that Stiles would never want to give Derek up.

 

***

 

Derek met Stiles at the stadium. A suit would be far too formal, so he instead he wore some basic skinny jeans, a dark blue tee, and a cap, making sure his beard was well trimmed. Erica had approved the tightness of his shirt before she let him go, giving him a sunscreen stick and telling him to be careful not to be hit by a foul ball. 

He stepped up to the entrance, checking his phone for Stiles’s message. 

“Erek! Hey!” Stiles’s voice rang through the crowd, and Derek smiled and waved back. They looked like good friends here, two normal people going to a normal ball game. 

“It’s weird to see you outside of a suit,” Derek told him. Stiles laughed. 

“I hate them. They’re so difficult to move around in, you know?” Stiles jerked his head a little to emphasize his point. “You look good. As always.” 

Derek shrugged and Stiles sighed. “One day you’re going to let me in on your secret,” he said in an over-the-top forlorn filled voice. 

“Maybe,” Derek replied. Stiles rolled his eyes and handed Derek his ticket as they stood in the line for security. Derek snuck a glance at the seats, then paused, and looked again.  They were seated in the third row, directly behind home plate. 

He hadn’t been this close to the infield in years. Easily they breezed through security, Stiles not leaning on him but definitely in his space, eyes trailing over vendors and stalls, ready to purchase Derek anything he might want. 

Just like a sugar daddy should. 

“Do you want anything?” Stiles offered, his face bright, eyes hopeful. He leaned even closer to Derek. “Anything at all. We can take it back later if you don’t want it.” 

“Maybe some food later,” Derek assured him, walking towards their section. “I’ve got to watch my figure.” 

The excuse kept Stiles pleased as they walked along to their seats. The shock of their location hadn’t abated any. These were good tickets. Not the best seats, in his opinion, but there were enough people who argued for them to admit they were great tickets. 

“Hey,” Stiles uttered, eyes wide with something Derek recognized. The billionaire was up to something. “Go find our seats. I have something to do.” And with that, Stiles practically hopped away, leaving Derek confused. Derek continued down to his seat, watching as Stiles ran over to the home team’s dugout. 

No. _No way_. 

The older man didn’t bother to sit. Instead he kept his eyes trained on Stiles’s form, watching as Stiles leaned over and handed a ball for the pitcher to sign. The pitcher laughed and signed the ball without hesitation, and Stiles thanked him and sent a wink Derek’s way. 

Derek raised an eyebrow, but he knew his face held a grin. He couldn’t believe it, a Jaybirds fan getting an autograph. Stiles walked up to him cockily, nearly preening at what he’d done. “So,” Stiles drawled out, handing the ball to Derek. “I think all we have to do now is enjoy the came, right?” 

Derek took the ball and held it up to his cheek, smiling slyly. “And each other’s company, I hope.” He sat down and Stiles took the seat next to him. The billionaire’s body was thrumming with energy, movements, tapping. Normally Derek would hiss at Stiles to behave, but since Stiles had just gotten him an autographed baseball, he figured he could… distract Stiles. With something appropriate for public.

Before he could place his hand on Stiles’s, Stiles turned to him. “Those guys there are buff, but they’re not as buff as you.” His eyes flickered over to Derek before looking away, partially ashamed that he’d been caught ogling.

“They probably travel a lot more than I do,” Derek admitted. “Might make them soft.” 

Stiles scoffed, waving his hand dismissively. “I dunno, dude. You should see some of the equipment they’ve got. You could probably work your fingers on that stuff and come out with little biceps on each one.” 

Derek turned to Stiles. “It doesn’t take a lot to get pumped,” he replied. He paused for a moment, wondering if he should plant a seed of an idea in Stiles’s mind. Whatever. It couldn’t hurt, he decided, thinking of the weights he’d always wanted Jennifer to buy him. “I don’t have much of a home gym. Just some free weights and pull-up bars.” 

Stiles looked at him incredulously. “Seriously?” he asked in surprise. 

“Seriously. I’ll send you a pic next time I’m there. All this is bodyweight or basic stuff.” He gestured towards himself, watching as Stiles swallowed, reaching out a hand to touch Derek’s bicep. 

Derek gave it a little flex, and Stiles jumped back as if burned. Attracted, but burned.

“I didn’t even think that was possible,” Stiles muttered. “You must have some amazing motivation, dude.” 

“It allows me to hang out with some amazing people,” Derek flirted back. 

Unfortunately, he didn’t have a chance to see how well his flirting went over. Soon enough the crowd was called to stand for the national anthem, and when the game started the two were far more focused on the pitchers and players than anything. 

Stiles had studied up, talking about statistics and players, and Derek followed along, a healthy and fun banter between them. Finally after the fifth inning, the score still zero-zero, Derek felt safe enough to change the subject to something more personal. 

“So. Do you get to come to ball games often?” he began, hoping Stiles would give him enough information to keep asking more questions. 

“Not anymore. I used to, with my dad.” Stiles bit his lip. “But I haven’t been back home in a while.” 

Derek nodded. Stiles had given plenty of information; he used to go, it was an outing with his father, he hadn’t been home for some time. “Did you play, or?” 

“He played. With the whole department. He was a sheriff,” Stiles added quickly. “Damn good at his job, too.” A flicker of pride crossed against Stiles’s face, and Derek smiled back. 

“Sounds like a good man,” Derek replied. “I have a lot of respect for sheriffs.” 

“Oh yeah?” Stiles asked. “You meet a lot of them?” He stuck his tongue out cheekily. “I hope it wasn’t for anything bad. They’re terrible. Once I snuck out with Scott and my father ended up handcuffing me in the cruiser and giving me an interrogation when I got home.” 

Derek laughed at that scene. “You must have been a difficult kid.” 

Stiles shrugged. “No more than now.” He looked at Derek. “You ever meet one? A sheriff?” He asked again, enough insistence in his tone that suggested he wanted a real answer. 

Derek set his jaw, trying to think on how to best tell Stiles the truth without telling him anything. He didn’t want to say how his ass had collapsed on him as a 17 year old kid; how the ER had phoned both the police and his mother; how the sheriffs ended up escorting him home across the country because his family was on vacation and he had to stay in their station until his mother could come home days later.

“I got lost once,” Derek murmured against the breeze in the wind playing at his lips. “It was quite a while. When they found me, they took me to the station and let me sleep there. The sheriff even gave me his son’s pizza for that day.” He smiled at the memory, still fond of the idea of a secret between the two of them. 

Stiles looked a little confused, but he was earnestly listening. “Wow man,” he uttered. There wasn’t much he could say, either, and Derek knew that. He was glad that for once Stiles wasn’t running his mouth.

“I’m glad you were found,” Stiles finished, the sincerity in his voice painful, something very akin to Derek’s dream.

It made something inside Derek twist. He wanted to say “I was never really found.” He wanted to cry all of his secrets, suddenly, at this guy he hadn’t really known, all from a stupid little dream. 

He pried his jaw shut. Saying such things would spoil the mood.  It was too vulnerable a secret, too lost in the thoughts of everything. Maybe one day he’d tell Stiles, and that abated the twisting feeling just enough for a subject change to enter Derek’s brain.

“Your dad _wa_ s a sheriff?” Derek asked. “So, he retired?” 

Stiles’s eyes turned dark. “No,” Stiles said, and Derek could see him shifting through the information, trying to figure out what to reveal and what to keep hidden just as Derek had done before. 

“Only what you want to tell me, Stiles. You don’t have to-“

“I don’t mind,” Stiles assured him. “It just gets to me, you know? Like, I made billions. My name was famous overnight. But what they don’t tell you when you’re an overnight success is the _attention_. Phone calls from every charity. Groups wanting to partner up. People pretending to be financial advisors, telling you how you should deal with your money, as if you don’t have any of those. People who once hated you pretending to be your friend because you have money. Or suing you- I have two lawyers dedicated to frivolous lawsuits. One man sued me for his depression because I happened to be talking on TV and he felt his life was a failure compared to mine.”

Derek reached over and grabbed Stiles’s hand. “That’s messed up,” he murmured, but he knew what money did. Stiles wasn’t the first sugar daddy he’d had to say such things. 

Stiles swallowed. “So… people connected the dots. I went from being a Southern Californian nobody to being a big hot-shot. People were all over for money. I got ten different apartments and fifty death threats and ransoms at each address I had.” 

Oh. Derek didn’t like where this was going. Stiles moved his hand, thumb stroking Derek’s finger, a strangely intimate and grounding gesture for both of them. “One party took my dad ransom. As a hostage. He got shot. He couldn’t work again.” His eyes scanned over the field, both of them hoping for some distraction. “They were after _my_ money.” 

Derek thought back to his own time in the ER, doctors and nurses surrounding him, so confused and distraught. “Your father,” Derek stated, and Stiles jumped a little, eyes surprised. “Did he make it through okay?” 

Stiles looked strangely at him but the billionaire quickly enough shook his head, placing his hand back in his lap. “Yeah. Full recovery. I helped pay for it, of course, and then gave him a trust fund for his retirement. He hates being retired, but it’s better than being dead.” 

Derek nodded, looking out on the field as the batter swung and missed. “He might object more to the twenty marines and forty dogs you surround him with day by day,” he suggested offhandedly, raising an eyebrow. 

His joke did the trick- Stiles’s face went from dark to bright, laughing at Derek’s comment. “Only ten marines,” Stiles insisted, but he seemed pleased and warm again. “We could use the others to run the bases for either of these teams.” 

“I’m a fan out of loyalty,” Derek defended. “Not because the Wagons are exciting.” 

Stiles chuckled at that, too. “It’s now the seventh inning and it’s still nothing,” he replied, but as he spoke the batter swung- a home run for the Wagons. The two men cheered as they watched their runner clear the bases, excitement flowing through their veins and replacing the dark and intimate conversation before. 

“You could hit like that,” Stiles suggested to Derek, still standing with the crowd. 

“I’m much better at pitching,” Derek assured him, watching as Stiles nodded along before he froze, the innuendo hitting him far too late to recover smoothly. Derek gave an evil little grin.

“What about pounding?” Stiles shot back, his own snarky face engaged. Derek could practically hear his mind whirl with challenge. Stiles wasn’t the sort of person who might back down from an intellectual battle. 

Excellent. This was much better than Stiles tapping on the seat.

“Only weights,” Derek murmured sadly. “I only pound hard iron.” 

They both sat down as the crowd calmed, Stiles thinking of what to say next. “I’m sure your _grip_ is great, though,” he suggested. “And your _form_.” 

A flash of what that could be spread through Derek’s mind, so similar to his dream. He knew there wouldn’t be a comeback to that.

“It is,” Derek answered unabashedly, reveling in how Stiles’s face broke for a moment as Derek crossed the line from flirting to a full come-on. Stiles sputtered for a few moments before sulkily sitting back in his seat.

“You’re not allowed to say anything more,” Stiles commanded as the eighth started. It was a playful command, no bite behind it. Derek nodded. Suited him just fine. 

Stiles sputtered again, mumbling something about forgetting, and pretended to pout. He poked Derek’s arm, hoping for a response. 

Derek gave him none. 

Stiles moved upward, his pokes flimsily disguised attempts at feeling Derek’s body. Derek allowed it. When Stiles started poking the side of his face, however, he turned, catching Stiles’s finger gently in his teeth. 

Stiles pulled away quickly, face red. He left Derek alone after that.

At the bottom of the eighth Stiles started fiddling with his smartphone. At the top of the ninth Derek did the same. There were a couple of texts, one from Jennifer asking to meet over the weekend for discussion about their arrangement, and one from Deucalion. 

**Message From: Deucalion**

Erek, 

I’d love for us to have a more exclusive arrangement. Have you given it anymore thought? I would be extremely generous. You’d want for nothing. 

Give it some thought and get back to me.

**End message**

Ugh. Derek didn’t even want to respond to that one, putting the phone in his pocket. He knew this had been coming. He knew it would only get worse from here, that Deucalion would only get more insistent. 

He shook his head, trying to focus on the game at hand.

The visiting team had their last out, the wagon’s winning. Stiles popped up from his phone, jumping to cheer as the Wagon’s win was announced, fireworks blaring overhead. 

“Whoo-hoo,” Stiles shouted over the roar of the crowd. “I’m good luck.” 

His infectious smarmy smile was Derek’s undoing. Really, Stiles couldn’t be allowed to keep that smile on his face. Quickly Derek leaned down and pressed their lips together, a quick peck before straightening up. “That you are,” he suggested. 

It took a moment to process what he’d just done. He’d kissed Stiles. He hadn’t meant to flirt so openly with him. Immediately his mind went back to the dream and Derek felt panic well up in him. He needed to go clear his head for a moment. “I’m going to head to the bathroom. Wait for me outside.” 

Stiles nodded, confusion written over his face, but he moved to the section exit along with Derek. The sugar baby fought through the crowds, making his way to a bathroom on the far side he knew would be less crowded. The ones by the exits always had long lines. 

The moment he stepped inside he was pressed against the cool tiled wall, Stiles’s mouth on his. 

He opened his mouth eagerly, drinking in all of Stiles’s heat and energy, feeling his body flushed and heavy against Derek’s own. It wouldn’t lead to sex, but it was wild and untamed, unsure but hungry. Derek hadn’t been kissed like that in a long time and found himself responding in kind, sloppily fighting Stiles for dominance. He let out a moan as his hands wrapped around Stiles’s waist, drawing them closer and tighter together. 

Finally Stiles pulled away, his lips slick with spit and eyes wide with anticipation.

“Are you seeing anyone else?” Stiles breathed against his mouth, their eyes dark and heated in the stadium bathroom. Derek’s mind flashed back to Deucalion, to Jennifer. He thought of their demands, of their lack of respect, how they wanted him curled around their fingers. 

His tongue ran around his lips , remembering the kiss. He took in Stiles pressed against him, all passion and desperation, his face nothing more than a man who wanted to please Derek, who wanted to give Derek what Derek wanted.

Derek’s insides _seared_ with raw desire.

“No,” he breathed back, and moved to close the space between them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it's a dream, does it count as sex between characters? (I'm hoping no). 
> 
> Next chapter: Stiles buys Derek a home gym thing.
> 
> Happy Friday!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A reminder that though Derek meets with various clients, I've chosen not to show him having sex with clients. Any client stuff is strictly before and after.

Derek could still feel Stiles on his lips when he woke up the next morning. It was a good feeling; all tingles and pleasure, thinking of the spontaneity and surprise of their kiss. Stiles had allowed Derek to kiss him for a couple more seconds before pulling away, his face red and apologizing.

Derek didn’t fully understand why, but he had a sneaking suspicion that Stiles wasn’t sexually experienced. And that would lead to insecurities, like pulling away from what was easily becoming a quick handjob in a stadium bathroom. For once, Derek had been looking forward to sex with a sugar daddy. Not just looking forward, but craving sex with a sugar daddy. If Stiles knew about Derek’s other job, or how many virgins he’d slept with before, Stiles might relax. Derek didn’t care about Stiles’s lack of sexual partners. 

He cared about _being_ one. 

For a moment he looked at his sugaring phone, tempted to take a photo of his dick and send it to Stiles and show the billionaire the effect he had on Derek. Perhaps unfortunately, his logical side won out. Taking dick pics was not a solid business plan. They would always come back to bite him in the end.

He had to get up. He had to do things today, to organize plans for tomorrow, people to talk to. He had to figure out if any of his clients had come back, if he needed to drop someone other than the two he was planning on, and if he wanted to meet with Deucalion anyway and take another easy $500.

Picking up his phone he sent one measly text to Stiles. It was something to be a little embarrassed by it if it wasn’t so true, and besides, Stiles always seems to respond positively to that sort of romantic stuff.

**Message To: Stiles**

Felt you on my lips this morning

**End Message**

He closed his eyes and started to drift off again when the phone buzzed. Eagerly he picked it up and checked it for messages, laughing at what Stiles sent.

**Message From: Stiles**

That sounds dirty.

**End Message**

Derek agreed it probably was. If Stiles only knew how dirty Derek wanted to make it right then, full of sexting or full on phone-sex. But Stiles was probably working, so that wouldn’t do. 

Given the tone from the text, Stiles was probably amused. Hell, with the contents and the message and Derek being the one to do the messaging, Stiles was probably really much more than amused this morning. Derek smiled. That’s one less person he had to please today. 

Despite not wanting to, Derek rolled himself out of bed and headed for his gym. Halfway through his pushups Erica got up, heading down the stairs to make her coffee. Noting him, she waved, not bothering to say anything because neither of them had pretty voices at the time; Derek’s voice was full of strain and her voice was just shit in the morning. Derek kept working, finally turning over and letting himself rest on the floor, shirtless and sweaty. 

The distinct sound of a _click_ reached his ears. Opening one eye, he took in Erica standing over him, his cell phone in her hand. She’d taken a picture. 

“Send _that_ to Stiles,” she purred, setting his phone down on the sofa. It was a brilliant idea, though he decided to finish his set before checking to see what she’d caught. 

It wasn’t a bad photo. His head was out of the picture, but he knew Stiles would recognize his shoulders and biceps. Everything on Derek’s body was taught. Rippling, corded muscles flexed underneath his skin. His ribcage looked particularly impressive, Derek admired, and he sent the photo with a caption of “Early Morning Productivity”. 

As Derek headed into the shower the phone buzzed, but he let himself enjoy the spray rather than the phone for just a moment. When he stepped out, the checked the text.

**Message From: Stiles**

You have got to let me buy you a weight set, dude, those dumbbells are killer.

**End Message**

Derek chuckles. Figures Stiles wouldn’t be quite so comfortable talking about sexy photos just yet. 

**Message To: Stiles**

I’d appreciate it. I’ve got one on my wishlist on Amazon.

**End**

Stiles would know about his wishlist; Derek was sure he’d sent it to him before. Within moments he had a notification of the item being bought and it brought a smile to his lips. Stiles was so eager to please. Abs in the morning probably helped with that.

Preparing himself for a day of busy scheduling, Derek flipped on his computer and checked his e-mail. A couple of clients were back in town. It’d be good money to see them and probably after his next encounter with Stiles. Nothing too serious, nothing that would take away his emotional attachment to the billionaire. Some were for the next weekend; he checked his other mail, hoping it might have a date from Stiles about their next meeting.

Nothing. Derek went ahead and added those new clients to his google calendar, making note if any of them were attached to the businesses at the party. None. His clients were pretty average people. He could see them all if he wanted to.

The phone beeped again, a call. Derek answered it automatically. 

“This is Erek,” he answered, hoping for Stiles. 

“Hello, Erek,” came the smooth voice. Derek winced. It was Deucalion. “I suppose you have gotten my message?” 

“And been ignoring it,” Derek said flatly, no longer caring if he fucked it up. Deucalion didn’t have his name, he didn’t have his number nor his history. He was safe from the guy. “You know I’m not interested in exclusivity.” 

“True enough,” the man on the other line agreed. “But you can’t blame me for trying. I’m calling to see if you have a free period today or tomorrow. It’s been too long, Erek.” There was a hint of something akin to desperation in the voice, something brutal and commanding. Derek fought back a sigh. It would have been another easy weekend. 

“Deucalion-“

“Sir,” Deucalion corrected. 

This was a dangerous tone.  Derek had hoped to end things amicably with the guy. Just because Deucalion didn’t know where he was didn’t mean Deucalion couldn’t find out. “I suppose a punishment session is in order then, sir?” Derek asked, pulling up a chart he’d made of prices. 

“Most definitely,” Deucalion breathed, already pleased at the tone of Derek’s voice. It was a dangerous game Derek was playing right now. He absolutely knew Deucalion would keep pushing and Deucalion wasn’t the sort of man who would take “no” via text for an answer. He’d have to do it face to face. 

Derek wasn’t looking forward to that, but it’d have to be done. He looked at his schedule. He wasn’t prepared to meet tonight, but he could, maybe. “Given the amount of prep I need to make you happy, sir, I think tomorrow would be best.” Derek looked over his schedule. “In the evening?” 

“If you don’t mind, how about an 8pm? I’d like to keep you for three hours this time.” 

Three hours. Derek winced; this would be a long session. “The time is completely fine with me, sir,” he replied, clicking on the time and scheduling it in his session. “What sorts of things would you want to do in those three hours?” 

Deucalion takes in a breath, and Derek knows the old pervert is hard just thinking about it. “Sir?” Derek tries again, going over previous plans. “Dirty talk, humiliation, restraints-“

“Spanking,” Deucalion murmurs. “A bit of edgeplay, as per usual.” 

Spanking. It’d be their last time, Derek remembered, so he could put up with a little bit of spanking. “It’s extra,” Derek informed him. “Sir.”

“I figured as much. Two thousand, for the entire night?” 

Normally Derek would have jump at the offer, but Stiles had been giving him a generous allowance so far. “Two thousand and all things discussed beforehand.” 

“Naturally,” Deucalion agreed smoothly. “I would never dream of going past your boundaries, Erek, you have to understand that.” 

Derek did understand. Deucalion was a person who got off on how good he was. When Derek came, it was never about Derek. It was about how Deucalion was so good he made Derek come. Derek’s enjoyment was a reflection and boost for Deucalion’s ego. He just happened to like Derek on the side. Derek understood all too well. 

“Of course I understand, Sir,” Derek lied. “You’ve never made me think anything otherwise.” 

“Good,” Deucalion agreed. “I do look forward to seeing you, my pet.” 

“And I you, sir. Good day.” Derek hung up, something acidic in his gut. It was tough to walk away from money, especially when things with Stiles still might fall through. But he’d cut Deucalion off when it was over, so it wasn’t such a big deal. 

It felt like a lie. 

Derek inhaled, trying to summon back his calm. He could at least e-mail Jennifer and politely tell her the arrangement was off. He cooked up an e-mail, told her he was too busy to continue the arrangement, and let it send. 

There. Work stuff done for the morning, at least. 

He pulled away from his computer, tucking his sugar phone in his pocket. Maybe he could go outside for a bit and just hang over the balcony. Erica looked up at him from their sofa but didn’t say anything as he walked by her,  her fingers furiously typing away. She must have been doing her own scheduling.

The air was cool and crisp outside,  delicious in his lungs. His phone buzzed in his pocket but Derek ignored it, certain it was Jennifer trying to win him back somehow. He wasn’t interested. 

Stiles was infinitely more interesting than Jennifer. If not, severing gave him a peace of mind he hadn’t thought it would. Jennifer wasn’t bad, but at least he wouldn’t have to worry about being eye candy with both her and Stiles. 

Sometimes he wished he could smoke. All this left a bad feeling in his mouth. Bad business decisions left and right, he felt, but on the other hand, he was happy. He was enjoying himself. And that was another part of business. 

He came back inside, looking at his phone. One missed call from Jennifer (bullet: dodged). And one text from Stiles. 

**Message From: Stiles**

I’ve taken the liberty of buying you that weight set from Amazon. Looks like you could use a new toy to play with. ;)

**End Message**

Derek laughed, typing his reply. 

**Message To: Stiles**

I always like new toys. 

…Don’t send me a winky face.  It’s creepy.

**End Message**

Immediately he received another response: 

**Message From: Stiles**

;) ;) ;)

**End Message**

Maybe things would be alright. 

 

***

 

He had been right to end it. He hadn’t expected Deucalion to be as forceful as he was, demanding and pushing. Entitled might have been a better word, Derek would have left if Deucalion didn’t respect his personal space and forced him to do anything. Still, Derek was glad their time was over, everything ended.

Derek helped Deucalion get dressed, buttoning up the older man’s shirt. Suddenly Deucalion spoke, sealing Derek’s resolve to end things between them. “You _need_ me, Erek,” he stated plainly. “I can take care of you. I can keep you company, keep your needs met.” 

Dangerous. This sort of talk was highly dangerous. Deucalion was trying to white knight him, trying to save him from this life. “I wouldn’t be able to get another job,” Derek suggested tentatively. 

“Nonsense. We both know you’ve had your eye on marketing for a while, hmm?” Deucalion reached down and grabbed Derek’s cheek, forcing Derek to look at him. Derek nearly growled, his eyes narrowing. Deucalion’s breath grew sharper. “Yes. Fight me. But you keep coming back, Derek. I think we both know why.” 

Derek finished the button, ever so glad to have an excuse to say what he said next. “This is the last time,” Derek informed Deucalion. “I can recommend you to another client, but I’m afraid with our emotions the way they are-“

“Our emotions aren’t compromised, Erek. I assure you I’m not in love with you.” 

That stung. Somehow that stung, and Derek believed it. Deucalion wasn’t in love with Derek. He was in love with the power he held over Derek.

“You’ve mentioned repeatedly about wanting me at your side, and I’ve told you I’m not interested.” Derek broke free of Deucalion’s grip, stepping back and reaching for his own clothes. “I don’t-“

“You _owe_ me,” Deucalion said simply. “I’ve always been here for you, booking through your slim months and giving you tips. It’s a little something you could give me in return for all that.” 

The words stung- Derek didn’t even want to bother correcting him. Derek didn’t owe him a damn thing. Their company was transactional, an hourly basis. Derek provided a _service_. “You want to _own_ me,” He accused. 

“I merely want to play with you whenever I see fit,” Deucalion replied cooly. “Don’t use that tone of voice with me, boy.” 

Boy. Derek’s hands squeezed around the shirt, searching for his money on the floor. Their session was over, their scene ended. There was no reason for Deucalion to use that tone of voice. Derek pulled the money in his jeans, picking up his shirt and jacket, pointedly ignoring the other man. 

“Answer me,” Deucalion demanded, his hands going towards his walking cane. 

Derek spun to face him, chest wide and face covered in fury. “You don’t _own_ me, you fucking cataract-filled old man-“

Pain. Pain on his chest. Derek reached down to feel the pain, hands coming up with blood. He looked at the other man in confusion. How had that happened?

Deucalion sat on the bed, his walking cane _sharpened_ into a blade. “Don’t speak to me that way,” Deucalion said simply, watching as Derek struggled with the lock. “You know better.” 

Instinct took over, and Derek ran. He spun around and raced to the hotel door, trying to open it. Fuck. Why wouldn’t the deadbolt open? Shaking, Derek kept fumbling. Normally he could take a man in a fight, true, but Deucalion had a weapon, and if the police were called it was _Derek’s_ ass on the line.

Deucalion walked up behind him slowly, wrapping his arms around Derek’s shaking frame. “Shh,” he calmed, whispering in Derek’s ear. “It’s alright, Erek.” His hands moved to the deadbolt, sliding it out of its place. “I’ll see you next time,” he added. 

Derek fled, running faster than he had in his entire adult life. 

 

***

 

The phone trembled in his hands as he tried to call Erica to let her know he’d be on his way home but his shaking fingers meant he couldn’t quite hit the numbers as he stood on the subway platform. Deucalion might still know where he was. He might have Derek followed or find what subway line to use. He’d fucking _cut_ Derek.

Panicking, he looked around the different passengers. He knew this fear was unfounded but he couldn’t help being afraid. Kate had done worse things. Quietly, he tried to breathe, tried to take a step back mentally. The passengers were normal people. The train was coming. 

His chest stung.

A buzzing sensation overtook his hand, and Derek automatically looked at the phone- Erica. With relief, he managed to slide the screen with his thumb, answering the phone.

“Where are you?” Erica asked, her voice laced with worry. That’s right- Derek hadn’t sent the “I’m okay” message.

“Subway. Train. Going to head back now.” Derek held onto the phone with his right hand, his left holding his jacket closed.

Erica immediately picked up on his distress. “I’ll meet you there with a taxi,” she told him. “Tell me about what happened when we get home, okay?” 

Bless her, Derek thought, for not making him talk about it in a crowded group of people. Bless her for being there with a taxi. “Okay,” Derek replied and hang up. Slipping the phone in his pocket, he felt the crinkle of twenty hundred dollar bills in his pocket.

All rich men were like this, his mind supplied him. He had to fight the words, he had to convince himself it wasn’t true. It was a bad day. He had seen hundreds of other clients that _weren’t_ like this, who hadn’t hurt him. It was just one crazy client.

With a familiar electronic ding and gust of air, the subway car arrived, bringing with it more hope that Derek was putting distance between himself and Deucalion. He hopped onto the train, trying to breathe. His phone buzzed again- a vibration setting for his Google voice account. Derek didn’t look at it, kept it in his pocket as he wrung out his hands and hunched over, trying to breathe. 

When the train stopped at his station he practically flung himself from the car, hauling ass up the steps and nearly dove into Erica’s arms on the sidewalk. She hugged him back, her hands ruffling his hair fondly as she guided him into the car. Deucalion wouldn’t be able to trace them like this, Derek thought to himself. They could take the taxi somewhere else.

“It’s okay,” Erica told him. 

“Tell me about your day,” Derek pleaded. He knew Erica had been home most of the day, but he wanted something else to focus on other than his own. Distraction would be good for him right now.

Erica looked at the driver’s meter for a moment before speaking. “Well, it was boring. Make-up tutorials for youtube, nothing too exciting.” She paused for a moment. “You got a couple of packages today from a bunch of burly guys,” Erica said, smiling. “Looks like someone got a gift?” 

The weights. Stiles had sent the weights. Derek attempted to breathe, to feel good, but somehow he felt worse. Was Stiles like Deucalion? Was this how it was all going to end up, Stiles convinced Derek would do anything for money?

“Also, there was a card attached to the weights, and a couple of other things. He really went all-out for you.” 

Derek didn’t want to speak, didn’t want to admit that Stiles was a _billionaire_ , that this was nothing to him. Stiles would spend money on him like it was nothing and it didn’t matter. It wasn’t going all-out. It was _common_.

Soon enough, the taxi arrived at their apartment. Erica paid the man, following Derek up to their apartment without a word. Shuddering, he pulled off his shirt, looking at Erica over his shoulder. “I’m going to need the first-aid kit.” 

“Oh fuck, Derek,” Erica murmured, but she hurried to get it from the bathroom. His reflection in the mirror caught his eye. His shirt was covered in blood. Lifting up the fabric, he inspected the wound. It hurt, it’d probably scar, laying right along his lower pecs and long enough to constantly be opening the wound. But it wasn’t deep, and it was something he could easily cover with clothes or with shadow. It wouldn’t affect his work too badly.

Erica came up behind him and he grabbed the kit, fishing out the Neosporin. “I’ll get the gauze,” Erica told him. He didn’t really need gauze, or a band-aid, but it’d help his wound from ripping open again, maybe.

“It’s just superficial,” he reassured her gently. The words felt untrue even to him.

She looked concerned. “You’re not seeing him again, are you?” she finally asked. 

Derek shook his head, applying the Neosporin to his wound. “No,” he assured her, letting her tape up her gauze. “I’m never seeing that fucker again. I have to change my passwords and e-mails for a bit, but it’ll work out.” 

Erica bit her lip. “I hope so.” She finished cutting the tape, placing it over the cut. “Do you wanna see what Stiles got you?” she asked softly, and Derek looked into his room. Boxes of weights and other things lay scattered around. 

“Maybe tomorrow,” Derek uttered, and Erica nodded. “I’m safe enough for now, Erica. He only did this.” The roommates shared a hug as Erica went upstairs, saying goodnight softly. Derek moved back into his room, picking up one of the boxes. 

It was rather light for a weight. 

Confused, Derek tossed the box on his bed, reaching into his desk drawer and pulling out a knife. He cut open the box-

Towels. 

Stiles had sent him workout towels. 

Confused, he opened another box. Protein powder. 

Another box. Organic food. 

Finally Derek found the weights, a soft smile on his face as he opened the box. It was kind of like playing a game.

All in all, Stiles hadn’t just sent him workout things, he’d sent him _useful_ things. Things Derek could use, things Derek hadn’t even asked for. Things Derek had mentioned in passing, in texts, in conversations, stuff Derek hadn’t meant for Stiles to pick up on. 

And Stiles _had_.

Derek didn’t feel like crying then. not when his eyes were wet or his breath shuddery. But it had been a long day and a very disturbing one at that; he allowed himself to be grateful for good people like Stiles and Erica in his life, and dropped his defenses, just a little, in the safety of his bedroom.

**Message To: Stiles**

Got home late. Rough day. Your gift was probably the best ending I could have asked for.

Attachment: Boxes.jpg

**End Message**


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update: This chapter has drastically changed since its first incarnation. There's no longer hitting or suggestions of people owing sex for money. Nor is there a big fight scene; that's all been dismissed. There's still tension, but not explosive anger, which I feel is for the best.
> 
> A couple people mentioned how OOC Stiles was in the first posting of this chapter, and I agree with them on that. Because I see this WIP as a living document, I've rewritten this chapter to something I hope we will all find much more satisfactory. 
> 
> I want to keep all of the lovely comments, especially those that have been constructive. In order to do that, rather than delete and repost a chapter, I've just edited the heck out of it.

In retrospect, Derek should have expected the extra packages from Stiles. On the third day they were amusing, but by the seventh it was a little tiring. At least the gifts had gotten smaller as the week went on, little small things to perk up his day. Erica would laugh each time Derek came in the door, shoving a package in his face.

Normally, it wouldn’t be too frustrating, but after his encounter with Deucalion Derek felt a little uncomfortable with Stiles’s gifts. He couldn’t help but feel that Stiles was showing how much he owned Derek. Erica tried to reassure him that it wasn’t the case and Derek himself knew it was silly, but still, the feeling wouldn’t leave.

It didn’t help that Deucalion kept texting Derek, either. Derek had changed his number but each time Deucalion would find it, sending messages about seeing Derek again. There was even a vague threat of finding Derek in real life, but Derek just saved it on his computer in case anything untoward happened and tried to forget it. 

He was very glad Stiles hadn’t wanted sex yet. Derek could still pretend Stiles wanted companionship or someone to take with him to parties. He could pretend that Stiles’s awkwardness meant they’d never act on their attraction more than quick makeouts in bathroom stalls. 

It was easy to pretend. It wasn’t true for a moment, but pretending was a lot easier than facing the reality. 

It was good to come home after a good round with his clients. All of them today had been respectful, understanding, and good people. Derek was glad for them, glad to know he could still do this, still have money in his pocket even if Stiles left him. Even without Deucalion and Jennifer.

Jennifer hadn’t contacted him since her voicemail. Derek suspected she wasn’t interested in perusing it further. They’d already been dying, and she knew he wasn’t happy. So there was no reason for her to contact him. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Derek pulled it out, carefully looking at the name- Stiles. Stiles was calling. Relief washed through Derek as he answered it. “Hello?” 

“Hey, Erek! How’s it going?” Stiles sounded excited and breathy. Derek wondered if Stiles was at his office or at home. He didn’t know which, but both seemed equally good places to be breathy in. 

His mood lightened by the sound of Stiles’s voice, Derek answered, “Much better now that you’ve called. What’s up, Stiles?” 

Erica wasn’t home, so he draped himself over the sofa, listening intently to what Stiles had to say.

“Uh, yeah.” Stiles paused for a moment. “I was thinking about meeting up some time? Like, apparently, if I don’t get my dose of Erek face to face I start going crazy.” 

Derek chuckled at that, not at all surprised. “Well, we should fix that. When are you free?” 

The sharp inhale on the other end of the line somehow made Derek’s heart flutter. Normally it would have gone to his cock, but… well, he was all cocked out tonight. He could save it for another day. “Any time this week, really. Tomorrow. Whenever. It’d just be a small thing, right? Just you and me at dinner.” 

Another dinner. Well, Stiles didn’t want for conversation at least, even if his tapping fingers would drive Derek mad. And Derek happened to be free tomorrow. “Okay,” Derek agreed. “Sounds great. Tomorrow?” 

The low exhale brought another smile to Derek’s face. Stiles had been holding his breath. “Yeah, sure. Tomorrow sounds great. Yeah. Good.” 

“Good,” Derek nearly purred. “I’m looking forward to it. Should I dress up?” 

“Ah,” Stiles thought quickly. “Nothing too formal. It’s not… fancy.” There was a pause. “Dress warmly, though. It’s a pretty chilly place. I mean, I can have a sweater for you if you want or something-“ 

“I’ve got it covered, Stiles,” Derek assured him, and Stiles sighed again, relaxing. “How was your day?” 

“Oh, you know. Harassed by Lydia. Trying to work on coding this program for web browsers, starting with Chrome.” Stiles sighed. “It was a really rough working day, you know?” 

“Sorry to hear it,” Derek said, and he was. He’d hoped Stiles’s day would have gone better than his.

“Yeah, well, you do what you can,” Stiles continued. “I’ll have a much better time now that I know my Erek fix is coming.” Derek smiled at his words. “And maybe we can work out next month’s meeting times, too?” Stiles sounded a little hopeful, like he was shyly suggesting this. 

Derek knew the truth. There was no shyness about it, they both wanted to continue into the next month. “Of course,” Derek replied. “Stiles, I’m happy to discuss anything with our relationship.” He lay back on the sofa, settling into the pillows decorating the arms. 

Derek could practically hear Stiles’s thoughts turning while Stiles spoke. “Ah, good. Because, you know, I’ve not really done this before. Sugar daddying. Or dating, actually. I’ve uh, never dated. So if it’s not… if I’m not good, you need to tell me, you know? I’ll make it better. I promise.” 

Of all the things Derek had assumed, he hadn’t been expecting that. He knew Stiles might be rough around the edges. He knew Stiles might not be sexually experienced. But never dated? That took Derek by surprise. 

He found his voice a lot more tender than he’d planned. “Stiles. I see that you’re trying, and I know you want to make this relationship good between both of us. That counts for a lot.” He hoped his words would help melt some of Stiles’s insecurities away. “If there are ever any problems, I’ll let you know.” 

“But-“ 

“Stiles,” Derek assured him, closing his eyes as he thought of how awkward Stiles must feel right now. He tried his best to come up with lines to reassure the billionaire. Somehow the words came easily, more honestly than Derek had expected. “You’re a funny guy. You’re talented, which goes without saying. But you’re straightforward and loud and an asshole and sassy and blunt and I find all of those things endearing. You’re clever and bright and you hold more liquor than I thought possible.” 

Stiles laughed at that. 

“And you’re a quick learner,” Derek added, thinking back to their kiss. “Give yourself credit. I want to be with you.” 

There was silence at the end of the tone, as if Stiles were thinking this over, as if he didn’t really believe. “Thanks,” he said finally, his tone a little flat. 

Derek sighed. “I’ve been in some shit relationships, Stiles,” he began. “I’ve been chewed up and disrespected, to say the least. You remember what I told you about the sheriff from home?” 

“Yeah,” Stiles mentioned, his tone suddenly sharp, interested. 

“Well, that girlfriend kidnapped me. She dragged me across state lines, all the way to New York. It wasn’t a pretty time.” Derek breathed in, remembering it. “I’ve seen the scum of the world, Stiles. You’re nowhere close to being them.” 

It felt weird, opening up this much. Derek rarely let another know about the fact that he was abused. But somehow, he felt alright with Stiles. Stiles felt safe right now. 

“I’m glad,” Stiles uttered softly. For once it sounded like Stiles really was. 

They sat in a few moments of silence, listening to each other breathe. Finally, Stiles spoke. “I’ll send you the address later, then?” 

“Sounds good,” Derek murmured. “I can’t wait to see you tomorrow, Stiles.” 

“You too, Derek,” Stiles replied, and then hung up the phone. 

Derek frowned. Surely he’d misheard Stiles speak. Stiles hadn’t actually said, “Derek”, had he? He must have misheard. 

 

***

 

A boat. Stiles had gotten them dinner on a private yacht. Derek was glad Stiles had given him the heads up about the chill; he pulled his peacoat tighter around himself. What was normally chilly air felt downright frigid by the river.

The driver finished parking the car. “Allow me, sir,” he stated and led Derek up the ramp. 

“Is this Stiles’s boat?” Derek found himself asking. He’d never been on a yacht before. This one was bright white, with lights hanging up and down the side.

The driver chuckled and shook his head. “He merely rented it for a week. Mr. Stilinski doesn’t like spending money frivolously, you see.” He motioned for Derek to take off his coat.

Derek found himself nodding as he handed his coat to the man. “I see.” They entered through the hull of the ship, Derek taking a step on bright red carpet. The inside was big and roomy. “I’m impressed.” 

“I’m glad,” came Stiles’s voice from his left, and Derek spun to see Stiles all dressed up. Inwardly Derek frowned. Stiles had told him not to dress up but Stiles himself was still in a vest, a red vest that admittedly looked very dashing, if not a little asshole seeming in a way. Outwardly Derek smiled, his hands out. Stiles smiled back, but there was something behind his eyes that Derek couldn’t quite place. “I’d thought maybe a trip around the river would be fun?” 

Stiles broke out into a big grin. “Great! Parrish, will you let the captain know?” 

The driver smiled. “Of course, Mr. Stilinski. I’ll let the kitchen know as well.” Parrish turned to leave them. 

“A good man, that,” Stiles commented, holding out his arm. “Wanna take a tour? This boat has more things than I anticipated.”  When Derek took his hand, Stiles took them down the corridor he had come from. “So on this floor are the bedrooms,” Stiles informed him, opening up a door. Inside was a spacious king size bed, covered in white. 

For a moment, Derek wondered if Stiles had planned to try for sex before dinner. Normally, Derek would be all for that, but with the previous mention of Derek’s name (surely he hadn’t imagined that) and with Deucalion’s attack and follow up texts, Derek wasn’t really feeling up for anything tonight. Though he did think it would be fun one day to push Stiles into something that plush. 

The bedroom was perhaps twice as big as Derek’s own, with a table and chairs and a sofa. Stiles smiled as Derek looked over everything, detaching from the billionaire’s arm. “Everything is so… reflective,” Derek finally allowed. Stiles laughed. 

“It is. But there’s plenty of time to see it later,” Stiles hinted. Derek ignored the flirting by feigning obliviousness. “Let’s head upstairs to  the dining room. We’ve got a dinner while we watch the city lights go by.” Stiles’s skin warm and tingling as he tugged at Derek’s arm, .

Something was off with the situation but Derek couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was. Derek was on high alert, anyway. Maybe it was the boat. If they went on the river Derek couldn’t escape from Stiles. Maybe Derek was over thinking it. 

They were on the steps when the engines started up, loud sounds that forced their bodies backward. Stiles slipped a little and Derek caught him, smiling at how well Stiles fit into his chest. “Sorry,” Stiles apologized.

“We’re not going to eat outside, are we?” Derek asked. It was chilly enough. With the river and a breeze, it’d be downright difficult. 

“No, silly,” Stiles assured him, straightening himself enough to stand on his own. “We’ll overlook the river, but I wouldn’t make you be all cold and frigid.” His eyes twinkled as he made eye contact with Derek. “You do that enough on your own.”

Derek was tempted to press a kiss to Stiles’s lips just to shut the man up, but given how Stiles had hinted about using the beds Derek feared it would lead Stiles on. Derek wanted to be on point but he didn’t want to compromise how he was feeling, either. So he settled for a glare, watching as Stiles laughed and moved his hand to pat Derek on the head. 

Derek snapped at him, his teeth clinking together. Stiles jumped back for a moment, frightened before he laughed. “Got me,” he uttered. “Come on, you.” Stiles didn’t touch Derek’s hand this time. That was okay. 

There were plates of their dinner already out on the dining table as they entered the room. The windows were nearly floor to ceiling; the ceiling was yet another mirror, with a chandelier hanging from the top. It was perhaps the fanciest place Derek had ever eaten. Stiles sat and motioned for Derek to do the same, pouring Derek a drink of whine. 

“I’m not even going to ask if you’re impressed,” Stiles informed the sugar baby, waggling his eyebrows. Derek frowned at that. “But seriously, go ahead and get started. We’ve got all night. More or less,” he added. 

Derek started picking at his chicken, aware of Stiles’s eyes keenly on him the entire time. He put a bite in his mouth, chewing and swallowing slowly. It wasn’t the best food he’d ever had, but the atmosphere certainly made of for it. “Tasty,” he reported. Stiles beamed at him, starting into his green beans. 

They ate in silence for a while, right up until Derek decided to call Stiles on his lack of appetite. “Stiles,” he started, putting down his fork and knife. Stiles took another drink of wine. “What’s wrong?” 

Stiles swallowed and bit his lip. “You’re Derek Hale, aren’t you?” he inquired. “From Beacon Hills.” 

Derek went white.

He’d expected to be found out by Deucalion. But Stiles, Stiles hadn’t struck him as a stalker. Stiles knew his name. He could get Derek arrested, he could look up his previous engagements, he could contact Derek’s family. Was this blackmail? Was this all to trap him on a boat, to force Derek to-

“You were in high school with me,” Stiles continued, looking curious. 

Damn it. All of Derek’s safety for Stiles’s curiosity.

Derek took in a breath. “I don’t remember much of high school,” he admitted, putting his fork down. He felt sick. “You’re from Beacon Hills?” He should have looked more into Stiles before they met. 

“Yeah,” Stiles uttered. “I was a couple of years below you.” He paused, sheepishly meeting Derek’s eyes. “You used to tease me. A lot. When you, uh, you know, came back,” Stiles paused, “My dad gave you my pizza.”

Stiles _knew_.  He’d probably known this whole time who Derek was. “What game are you playing, Stiles?” Derek asked, straightening up. This was just like Deucalion. Stiles had trapped him, had kept him away, but this time Stiles had managed to cut off his exits. Well, Stiles would be surprised. Derek could _swim_ if he had to-

“Nothing, nothing,” Stiles responded. “I just… I was talking to Scott and I remembered you from my teenage years, and I saw a picture of you online!” He looked sincere but Derek didn’t trust him. He’d seen that sincere face used with many lies before. “I just… I wanted to know why you use a false name. Why you lied to me.” Stiles had the audacity to look _hurt_. 

“Because people look me up online,” Derek snapped, suddenly finished with this situation. His safety wasn’t worth thousands of dollars each month. How long would the boat travel the river? It had to be turning back soon. “Because I need privacy. I need _safety_.” Already Derek was inwardly calculating how quickly he could be home. He had enough clients. Luckily he hadn’t gotten rid of more than two clients, otherwise he really would have been in trouble. 

Stiles bit his lip, his limbs a little more flailing than normal. It took Derek a moment to read the signs- Stiles was panicking. “No, Derek, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry. I didn’t…” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I just wanted you to know that I knew. I didn’t want to keep secrets from you.” 

His voice held the implication that _Derek_ had been keeping secrets from Stiles. Derek nearly growled at the subtle accusations. This was turning into a shitty month. No amount of money was worth what Stiles was implying or the danger Stiles had put him in. 

Stiles took another drink of wine, speaking after his swallow. “This came out all wrong, not like I intended,” he muttered, not looking at Derek. Good. Derek was glad his fury was obvious. Stiles glanced back up to meet Derek’s eyes. “I’m sorry.” 

About what? Derek huffed while he sat, seething. Was Stiles sorry about looking up his personal information or sorry about his words coming out wrong? 

Well, there was nothing to be done right now. He couldn’t get away from Stiles on this boat. Acting out on his anger wouldn’t help either of them. But he was close to walking away from this. No amount of money was worth his security, and Stiles didn’t respect that. 

He was already shaken up from Deucalion this morning, the tension coming to an all time high. But he should know better, he should, so he started to explain himself. Stiles had been sorry in the past; he wasn’t… well, Derek was taking a chance that Stiles wasn’t like other rich men, used to following him home when stuffed to the brim with booze. 

And now, Stiles didn’t seem sorry for what he did, more like Stiles regretted that Derek was upset. Sighing, Derek took a drink. “You don’t know what you’ve done, do you?” 

Stiles started, panic rising in his eyes. “I just… I wanted it to be a romantic night,” he started quickly. “And maybe… other things later, but I swear I talked to Scott about high school and remembered you and-“

Derek raised an eyebrow quietly. Stiles swallowed, knowing he was caught. 

“I did look for you,” Stiles confessed. “I wanted to know more about you.” He ran his head through his hands, knowing he was caught. “But I didn’t piece it together until I was talking to Scott.” 

The honesty was somewhat refreshing, abating part of Derek’s anger. Still Derek smarted, still hurt, and his trust had disappeared. He opened his mouth to speak and closed it automatically before remembering Stiles knew who he was. He’d probably read some of the reports. 

Which meant Derek didn’t need to sugar coat anything.

Brutally honest seemed to be the best option. “When Kate took me, she handed out my name and address,” Derek spoke. Stiles’s head jerked upwards, listening intently. Derek tried to keep his calm, tried to remember that Stiles had looked him up out of curiosity, not of power, and that he wouldn’t use this story against Derek. “Men would show up at all hours, demanding to fuck me. I’d go from being choked by one guy at midnight to being in bondage by another at 6am.” He tried not to let the memory affect him. “When I tried to run she hunted me down. Locked me in there, made them all come and gave them my name. They threatened to tell my family. They split me open without any prep on their cocks, calling me ‘Derek’.” 

Stiles’s face paled, empathizing with Derek’s past plights. 

“When I begged her to let me go home to Beacon Hills, she gave me this,” Derek replied, pulling down his shirt to expose the collarbone. Stiles’s eyes went wide as Derek traced the old circle of a cigarette burn. Only too late did Derek remember he had the bandages of another scar. Stiles’s eyes dipped down to it and then back up to the old burn, swallowing. 

Stiles was smart. He’d realize what Derek had been through.

“That’s when I realized she was just my pimp.” Derek continued, locking Stiles’s gaze in his. “And when I had to drag myself to the hospital, the only insurance I had was my _mother’s_. They called home, but she was gone. My family was all on vacation, enjoying themselves while I was in ICU at the hospital.” 

Stiles swallowed, unable to say anything. The color of his face had turned to ash.

Derek continued his story. “When my mother came to get me, _days_ later, my uncle was with her. He sat me down and called me selfish, spoiled for running away. He looked at my wounds and told me I _deserved_ them.” 

He could still see the scene in his head, Peter coldly dismissing him, calling him a little shit. His mother had been talking to the officers behind them, her head in her hands, wringing her wrists. Suddenly one of the officers overheard,  angry at what Peter was saying. The officers left Derek alone, showing Peter what Derek had reported- Peter looked so ashen then, so ashamed. 

But Peter had been right, Derek knew. Derek knew he had to leave again, to take his shame away from the family.

He took a drink of wine, remembering where he was. “You tell men your name and they get jealous. They follow you. They call your phone. Think they’re your boyfriend. They stalk you, they threaten to report you to the cops. They demand more for free, and they’ll _kill_ you if they can’t get what they want.” He continued to gaze at Stiles. “So my name, it’s a privilege. The people who know it, I know they’ll respect me. They won’t come after me, won’t look up my information online. They’re _safe_. I trust them.” 

Something akin to what crossed Peter’s face that day started spreading over Stiles’s face.

Derek felt a little lighter, but he was still shaking. “I understand that you’re curious, Stiles. But that’s a huge breech of trust for me, and I…” he took a shaky breath, feeling panic welling up. “I need to get off the boat.”

Panic started coming in waves. Something was wrong. He was dying. Something was making him die, he knew it, he knew-s 

Stiles shot up rapidly, dragging Derek from his thoughts. For a moment Derek feared Stiles would beg him to stay, but instead Stiles moved forward as if to hug Derek. Wisely Stiles stayed away, as if remembering at the last minute that Derek didn’t trust him. “I’ll tell the captain immediately to turn the ship around,” he informed Derek, and moved out of the room. 

Good. Derek swallowed. Maybe there was still a chance with this. Maybe he hadn’t ruined everything. 

Who was he kidding? Stiles knew who he was now. He’d look up everything about him, use it against Derek. Stiles wouldn’t want someone that dirty.

Stiles came back into the room. “We’ll be at dock in about fifteen minutes,” he stated softly, going back to his original seat. “Derek, I’m sorry. I didn’t…” 

His voice broke off. They both knew Derek couldn’t process anything right now. 

“I need some time, Stiles,” Derek admitted, standing up to move out of the room.

Stiles nodded vigorously, willing to give Derek anything he needed. Even though the thought looked like it might break Stiles, he still nodded. “Okay,” he agreed, his voice breaking. Derek could feel his eyes on his back as Derek left the room, hoping to find another place to sit for fifteen minutes. 

 

***

 

A kind crew member helped him off the boat, asking if he needed a taxi. There was no need- in the time waiting, Derek had already called the taxi here. He assured the man he’d be fine, pointing out the only car on the dock. Derek walked towards the car, the cold wind biting bitterly at his back. 

The driver was painfully familiar as he opened his door on the inside. “Well hello, my non-submissive friend,” the taxi driver greeted him. “How’s about we get the hell out of here, yes?” 

“Sounds great,” Derek answered, stepping into the taxi. From the window he could see a silhouette against the glass, a figure of a man with his head in his hands, shaking.

 

***

 

It was a painful walk up the stairs. Regret filled every footstep, every action as Derek entered his apartment. Given the darkness in the unit, Erica wasn’t home from her job yet. He flipped on the lights and headed to his room, throwing his things on the floor. 

The light flashed brilliantly from his computer monitor, reminding him of his earlier sound business decision to keep more clients. Derek He looked over at an extensive bundle of gifts Stiles had sent him, knowing he could pawn a lot of them for cash if things got tight. The phone in his pocket buzzed. Deucalion again, probably. 

Derek shut the phone off. It wasn’t like it would do him much good to check it now.

He grabbed the picture of his family and shut off the light, taking the picture to bed with him. He missed them so much, sometimes. They were better off without him, but he still missed them. Against the moonlight through his window he traced their faces until he fell asleep.

 

***

 

When he woke up in the morning, he turned on his phone. The message had been from Stiles, not Deucalion. It merely said, “I’m sorry.” 

This time Derek knew what it was for. Their relationship was over. He lay in bed, the picture curled up to his chest. 

He’d overreacted yesterday. Certainly, Stiles had no right to do the things he’d done, like looking up Derek’s name. But Derek had panicked; he’d lost himself in his panic and hadn’t thought about things clearly, hadn’t thought about the business side of things. There was no way Stiles would want him now. Too much drama for a sugar baby.

Today was going to be a lazy day. A bad day. 

It was okay to have a bad day.

He walked out of his room in pajamas, heading to the TV. Erica typing away on her computer, seated on the sofa. Surprised, she glanced up at him. She easily adjusted herself so Derek could lay on her thigh, watching the TV. He didn’t have to say anything. Erica knew something was up with him. She was an angel.

“I managed to shove Kali off on a different girl,” Erica said happily. “So she’s out of my hair forever.” 

“Good,” Derek mumbled, half-listening. It was okay, though. Erica _knew_ he was half-listening. She continued to talk on and on about her clients, about handsome Boyd who always brought her gifts, about shy Isaac who craved dominance, about a girl named Heather who wanted to try a first time with a woman. 

Derek grunted his way through everything, eyes following the sad story of a teenage werewolf and his bat-wielding mother on the screen.

“You’re phone’s ringing, Derek,” Erica mentioned. 

So it was. Derek shrugged as best he could, giving a noncommittal groan. “Want me to check it out?” Erica asked, putting her computer to the side.

“Answer it, even,” Derek replied, head flopping onto the sofa as Erica got up. She came back with the phone ringing in her hand. Derek blankly looked at her. 

She sighed, giving him the phone. “It’s from Stiles.” 

Derek dropped his phone on the ground. Glaring, Erica picked it up and _answered_ it. “Hello?” 

Derek turned over, refusing to look at the traitorous woman. “I’ll let him know,” Erica muttered. “Thanks.” She poked Derek in the back. “Stiles says he’s sorry and would like to meet up with you in person in order to apologize. He suggested a park or some neutral ground.” She looked him over. “He wants to meet asap, but-“

“6pm,” Derek muttered, covering his face with his hands. She’d never stop poking him if he didn’t agree.

Erica looked at him, pressing mute on the phone. “Don’t do it for the money, Derek. You don’t deserve that.” 

He knew as much. He understood it. But he also knew he’d overreacted; Stiles was new to all of this, foolish with money, and he had no way to know what Derek had just been through. At least Derek could explain the panic and maybe try to change Stiles’s mind about how to treat his future sugar babies.

“It might have been an honest mistake,” Derek assured her through his hands. “Or at least, I think it might be.”

Erica sighed and unmuted the phone. “He says 6pm. Odds are he’s not going to dress up and look shiny pretty for you, and I’m going to be there too. Don’t think you can call your thugs on us; I’ll have the cops on speed dial.” She paused for a moment, looking at Derek’s form. “No, he hasn’t said anything, and he doesn’t have to. He came back _ruined_ , you little-“

Derek promptly took the phone away from Erica. “That’s enough of that,” he stated, glaring at her. “6pm. Which park?” 

“Um, Northwest Union,” came Stiles’s shaky voice. It sounded timid, afraid, _thin_. Derek felt exactly like the voice. “I’ll bring Parrish, then, for Erica? No other people.” 

“Sounds good. Erica will be on her _best_ behavior,” Derek replied, the threat in the air. Erica held up a middle finger and moved to fix herself a coffee. “Goodbye, Stiles.” 

It sounded final to his ears. He hung up the phone, somewhere between pissed off at Erica and thankful she was there. Like usual for her, really. “Do you even have casual clothes for the park?” Derek asked her. Narrowly he dodged the empty creamer cup thrown his way.

“You’ll want me there, buster,” she told him. “I’ll be at your back. And I’ll walk behind you, keep you in eyesight in case he tries to attack you.” She nodded to herself. “Like a Beta.” 

Derek frowned. “A what?” 

“Beta werewolf. Sheesh, Derek, weren’t you watching the TV show?” She sighed dramatically and climbed back onto the sofa, making sure she faced him. “Now then. What exactly happened last night?” 

 

***

 

Erica growled as she adjusted her fluffy coat, clambering out of the taxi. “This is dumb, Derek. He _kidnapped_ you.” 

Derek sighed. “He didn’t kidnap me. He turned the boat around,” he added, paying the driver. He tucked his wallet into his pocket as the taxi sped off, hopefully never to be seen again. 

Erica sighed. “Yeah, well,” she muttered, looking around. “Ah, it’s Jordan!” She tugged on his sleeve. “He’s the guy-“

“Stiles’s driver,” Derek cut her off, suddenly ashamed at outing her. He hadn’t known Parrish was a client of hers. “Oh, damn, Erica, I shouldn’t have-“

Erica patted his back, finishing her sentence. “He’s the guy always at the pizza place when I stop by,” she said lowly in his ear. “He’s not a client.” 

Relief washed through him and Erica squeezed his hand reassuringly. “And that man behind him is Stiles?” 

“That’s right,” Derek answered, taking in the sight of the two men walking towards them. Stiles’s head was bowed, his fingers twitching at his coat. Parrish held Derek’s old peacoat as an offering. Derek shrugged, and as their partners came within earshot, Derek spoke. “Why don’t you hold onto that?” he asked, motioning at the wool coat he was wearing. The unspoken “I don’t need it” went between them, hanging thickly in the air. 

Parrish looked at Stiles for guidance. Stiles nodded and held out his hand. “I’m Stiles,” he said softly, introducing himself to Erica. Erica pointedly didn’t take it. “This is-“

“Jordan,” Erica snapped. “You have a lot of-“

Quickly Derek squeezed her hand. “Erica,” he scolded. “This is between me and Stiles.” Turning to Stiles’s driver, his tone softened. “Thanks for walking with her, Parrish.” Stiles waited, eyes searching Derek’s face as Derek turned to him. “Let’s go for a walk, shall we?” 

“Very Victorian of you,” Stiles muttered. For a moment he looked up as if in hopes that Derek would laugh, but when the older man made no move to do so Stiles’s face fell. “ _Yes, let’s_ ,” he resignedly quoted. 

Derek took the lead, walking down a paved pathway. Despite being fall, the park was full of autumn blossoms; hastas, Russian sage, goldenrod, and even monkshood lined the path. All of them were very pretty, very eye-catching and enthralling. They gave both men something to distract themselves with for the first couple of minutes, something other than the awkwardness and brittle relationship they had between them. 

They weren’t here to look at flowers. Derek knew that. After a while, he spoke. “I shouldn’t have ranted at you like that. I apologize.” 

Stiles swallowed, not looking at him. His next words were a little off topic. “You had a recent injury,” he commented. It was an inquiry. 

There were two options before Derek; to lay everything open and bare, or to continue to lie. He weighed both options in his mind before speaking. “I did. I’m not seeing anyone else, but I do meet with clients.” He continued walking, Stiles following beside him. “It’s not a relationship when I do that,” he clarified. “It’s all business. But this guy… had gotten attached. When I told him I wouldn’t see him anymore, he cut me.” Derek paused, then added, “He mentioned a lot of the things I told you about. That I owed him. That he was spending money on me.” 

Stiles blanched a little. “I would never do that,” he insisted. Already, though, Derek could see the wheels in Stiles’s head turning. Stiles had begun to think about what it looked like to Derek- Derek who just didn’t know Stiles that well yet. 

“I understand,” Derek explained. “From my end, though, I’d just been slashed in the chest by one of my regulars. And then there you were, on a boat, and you admitted you’d looked up my personal information. You already invaded my privacy. And with this guy in my head, and with you doing those things, I freaked.” 

“I shouldn’t have looked you up like that,” Stiles apologized. “I didn’t… I’m sorry.” He paused, as if the words were having a difficult time coming out. Derek suspected Stiles rarely apologized to anyone. “I just got caught up in the moment. And the yacht… I didn’t want to back out of it, I wanted to make sure I’d stay. I wanted it to be romantic, to be our…” he flushed, something sweet and cute, and Derek could fill in the blanks. 

Stiles had planned for it to be their first time together. 

“If I hadn’t been attacked just a couple days before, I would have been more in the mood,” Derek admitted softly. 

Stiles said nothing, staring off in the distance. “It’s funny. For a couple of hours I thought it was my money.” He tightened his lips, then back at Derek. “You don’t remember me much in high school, but I remember wanting you. Fantasizing about you a bit. But you never… you were always with _her_ ,” Stiles said quickly. “But now that I have money, I thought maybe that’s what had changed your mind.”

Stiles looked up at Derek as he spoke. “You made it clear I was in the wrong about that, and I’m sorry I treated you that way.” Stiles paused, thinking of what to say next. “I didn’t know what happened to you when you left Beacon Hills. Nobody did.” He suddenly waved his hand. “But that’s not important. What’s important is that I fucked up, Derek, and I pushed you to the brink, and I tried to force you into something you didn’t want. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how uneducated I was about sugar babies and the ‘bowl’.” He paused. “The ‘bowl’ is the lifestyle, right?” 

“Yes,” Derek announced, feeling a lot lighter at Stiles’s apology and his own. “I make my money between this and sex work,” Derek added. “It’s not how I want to live my life in the future, but it pays the bills for now.” 

Stiles nodded. “You mentioned that before. Our first talk, I think. You asked about exclusivity.” Stiles looked at Derek’s eyes again, his face resigned. “And if… If we were to get back together, what I said still stands. You don’t have to be exclusive. And we don’t have to have sex, if you don’t want.”

Derek looked down at the billionaire, his hands tight around his fingers. “I accept your apology,” he uttered, leaving Stiles in suspense about whether or not he should try again with the arrangement. To be honest, Derek didn’t even know if he wanted to try again. 

It felt too heavy between them, so Derek attempted to lighten the mood with a little humor. “You fantasized about me in high school?” he asked playfully. 

Stiles scoffed. “Well, you were no Lydia Martin, love of my life,” Stiles continued. “But yeah, I might have thought of your form a couple of times. Pictured you after a basketball game all sweaty and pushing me down on my knees-“ 

Derek snorted. "Sound like a serious crush there,” he joked.

Stiles laughed, squeezing Derek’s arm. “That’s okay, though. Because the real you is a thousand times better.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” Stiles smiled up at him, placing his head on Derek’s arm as they continued walking. 

They continued walking in silence for a couple more paces. “If you have questions,” Derek began, “you have to ask me, and trust that I’m giving you an answer. Trust there’s a good reason why I might keep information from you.” Hope spread across Stiles’s face. Derek continued. “If it involves you, I’ll let you know about it, okay? Or my name, that comes with trust. You just plucked it before I was ready to give it, Stiles.” 

Stiles nodded eagerly, drinking in every word. Derek sighed at those eager little eyes, how much they looked at him like he’d hung the moon. Stiles knew more of his history than anyone else at this point, and he still looked like Derek was the best thing to walk the face of the earth. “Stiles?” Derek asked softly. 

“Yeah?” Stiles breathed, blushing away. He was… adorable was the wrong word. Derek wanted to eat him up, to drown in the feeling of admiration Stiles gave him, to believe he was precious the way Stiles was looking at him.

Gingerly Derek traced the side of Stiles’s face with his hand, resting his fingers on Stiles’s lips. The man shuddered underneath his touch, but stayed silent. “Shall we give it another go?” 

He moved his finger away from Stiles’s lips, waiting for the answer.

“Yeah,” Stiles said softly, taking Derek’s hand. They continued to walk for a time before Stiles spoke again. “No love, no salt. Just a good time, right?” 

No love. Derek looked over at Stiles, knowing they’d shared their first fight and come through on the other end, they’d worked through it. “Just a good time,” Derek confirmed. “And no salt.” 

Maybe if they fell in love it wouldn’t be too bad. 

Stiles squeezed his hand and started rattling off about the many different kinds of monkshood in the world (“Did you know it’s also called wolfsbane?”) and Derek shook his head and smiled, looking over his shoulder. 

He gave Erica a thumbs-up, and given how happy she looked at him, it was the correct decision. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a pretty productive week for me, so expect another chapter up on Friday! (We've had enough angst to last us for a couple of chapters, btw).
> 
>  
> 
> Edit: Again, thank you all for your lovely comments. They've been incredibly helpful to me in figuring out characterization versus plot. :)


	8. Chapter 8

“It’s a dinner full of self-important people,” Stiles let Derek know as he helped Derek out of the car. “If it gets too boring, fake an injury and we’ll go to the hospital.” His eyes held an unspoken plea of “Please do this Derek and do it sooner rather than later please”. 

Derek smiled and shook his head. “We’ll see how bad it gets,” he suggested. “You didn’t have any of your pregame drink tonight. It might not be so bad.” 

Stiles looked away, almost ashamed at his drinking. It dawned on Derek that Stiles probably wasn’t drinking because of what happened last time between them. Stiles had been drinking a lot on the boat. Now he was vigilant not to have the same thing happen again. His face must have revealed his surprise, because Stiles turned even further away form him. “It’s fine,” Stiles said curtly. 

They looked so unhappy together right now, all awkwardness. 

Stiles was safe, Derek understood. The thing on the boat had been a fight, a miscommunication, but Stiles had repented. After their argument Stiles didn’t look up Derek’s work, or his website, or his private clients. He didn’t even ask about some of the things Stiles would do with him, for which Derek was glad. It became unspoken that their relationship was platonic, neither sure when to push deeper.

But the tension Derek wasn’t sure what to do with. If it continued neither would be happy in this relationship.

“Do you want my arm?” Derek asked. Stiles shook his head. Somewhere in the back of his mind Derek knew the gossiping old ladies would have a field day if they came in without their arms together, but in the forefront was the reality that things were still injured. 

Derek followed Stiles obediently into the dining hall, taking his seat next between Stiles and an old woman. The lady was more interested in her friend, gossiping about the board members on a long table. Stiles still looked a little unhappy. 

This was not going to go well, Derek thought. He knew their next outing would be uncomfortable between them, but he hadn’t expected it to be this awkward. He smiled at the waiter who filled his glass, eyes still on Stiles. Stiles was pointedly not looking at either of them. 

It would be within Stiles’s rights to ask for a different sugar baby. Right now Derek was a lot more trouble than he was worth, making things uncomfortable and getting panicked. There were other babies who would have easily slept with Stiles that night, other babies who would flirt and take his money. Derek wasn’t being a good one right now. 

The speaker finished and a new speaker took his place. Stiles frowned, tapping the tables with his fingers out of boredom. Ugh. Derek didn’t envy Stiles for having to put up with these stupid meetings. 

The minutes ticked on, things heavy and stiff in the air. Derek couldn’t just leave things like this. He had to try and fix it somehow. The crowd clapped politely as the speaker congratulated the host, something stiff and simply robotic about the movements. Derek looked at the door. 

Cautiously he gripped Stiles’s wrist. Stiles jerked in his seat, looking back at Derek with confusion. Keeping his face calm, Derek leaned into Stiles’s ear. To an outside observer, it appeared he was sharing something very private or something important. What came out of Derek’s mouth instead was, “Let’s go have some fun and drive around all night.” 

Stiles broke into a grin, both of them getting up and hurrying for the exit, apologizing profusely to the men at the door. “You’re amazing,” Stiles breathed as they headed for the car. “Best sense of timing ever.” 

“Thank my appendix,” Derek replied, pleased at Stiles’s enjoyment. “If you ever want to get out of something like this, feel free to call me.” 

It seemed like the right thing to say.

 

***

 

Stiles took him up on that.

Derek would call him back sometimes, easily chatting to him. They kept odd hours, but that seemed to work between them. Derek often would send Stiles his free times and Stiles would simply leave a personalized message for Derek if he was in a meeting. Usually they’d call each other back as soon as they were free. 

It was a lot of time to be spending on his sugar daddy. His sugar self yelled at him for giving so much time without compensation. But Derek liked it too, he rationalized. Plus, it was relaxing to talk to Stiles before bed. He viewed it as a form of self-care, something to keep him sleeping well at night. 

Things were getting better, though slowly.

So when Stiles asked if he wanted to go see the next Marvel movie, Derek jumped on it. Stiles laughed and invited him to the theater, telling him that everything would be paid for. He even offered to take Derek to dinner after the movie. 

“Sounds great,” Derek murmured, more enthralled at spending time with Stiles than the movie itself. “Sounds like the kind of ending that gets a goodnight kiss.”

Stiles’s side of the line remained silent for a moment. Fear began to creep into Derek’s chest; maybe he’d taken it too far. But Stiles spoke. “Um, yeah, so… the flirting? You’re okay with the flirting?” he asked finally. He wasn’t assuming, he wasn’t investigating. He was _trusting_ Derek. 

It spoke volumes. 

“I like flirting with you, Stiles,” Derek allowed. “Just don’t push me to do it. And you know we’ve talked about it being a bad day for me,” he reminded Stiles. “You know I wouldn’t be with you if I wasn’t attracted to you.” 

He paused, waiting for Stiles to work through his own insecurities.

The billionaire took a breath. “Okay, okay. I just… wanted to make sure you’re comfortable.” Trusting. Letting Derek’s opinion matter. He was trying to do better. It meant the world to Derek that Stiles was trying to make this relationship work instead of finding a different sugar baby.

Derek looked over at Stiles’s latest gift- cologne. “I am,” he managed to grunt. 

Stiles called him on it. “Grunting. Now we have reached the true pinnacle of happiness, that we have.” Derek grunted again, forcing a chuckle out of Stiles. “Ah, sorry, Derek, got to go,” Stiles uttered, his tone sounding a lot more professional. “See you tonight? 8pm?”

“It’s a date,” Derek agreed, a quiet sort of contentment spreading through his stomach, calming his nerves. He hung up his phone, walking out into the living area. He _liked_ flirting with Stiles. He _liked_ Stiles. Even when the kid acted a brat. He smiled as he thought about their previous engagement, taking Stiles’s hand in his, contentment blossoming at knowing he calmed Stiles down.

He couldn’t help the grin that spread over his face.

Erica gasped from the sofa. “Who are you and what have you done to my Derek?” she asked. Soon enough she found herself grinning. “I’m glad it worked out for you, though. Parrish told me Stiles is a sweet guy.”

“He wasn’t born into money,” Derek replied, “So I feel like he understands what it’s like to not have any.” He grabbed a drink from the fridge and twisted the cap. “He’s probably the first person who’s ever been concerned with _me_ as a person,” he added.

Erica gave him a thumbs up. “Good job.” Then she turned to her computer, typing away again. 

It _was_ a good job. Derek had done good. 

 

***

 

The movie night wasn’t opening night for the movie. Instead it was a Tuesday night, two weeks after the release which meant not many people were in the theater. They climbed up the steps to find their seats, Derek holding on to all of the popcorn Stiles had ordered. Buttery, greasy, day-old popcorn. Derek felt sick just smelling it. 

“Quit it, you health nut. It’s good popcorn,” Stiles chastised, turning into an empty row near the back. “Sit.” 

Derek sat next to him, slapping the popcorn into Stiles’s lap. Stiles grunted and took the popcorn with ease, investigating if Derek had damaged it at all. “What is this movie about, anyway?” Derek asked.

Stiles’s mouth opened in shock. Clearly he had offended the billionaire on some level by not knowing about the “MCU”, as Stiles called it. But when Stiles tried to explain about what the movie plot and the epic origin story of the main character, Derek’s brain shut off. Instead, his brain offered _, Isn’t his mouth pretty_?

Not very helpful, but enough that he could seem pleased. Stiles nodded, thinking Derek understood and offered him popcorn. Derek refused. He was more thrilled to be in Stiles’s space than to watch the movie but Stiles didn’t need to know that.

The trailers started with their usual flair. There was  something about storms and mazes and monsters but Derek didn’t pay it any mind. Instead he focused on Stiles’s big eyes, round and wide, taking it all in with fascination. Derek liked watching Stiles like this, a curious spirit mindlessly munching on popcorn. 

Well, there went the thoughts about a pretty mouth, Derek decided as Stiles finished the large bucket within the first fifteen minutes of the movie. His hand kept helplessly trying to find more, searching and retreated when he couldn’t find any only to repeat the movement again. For his own sanity, Derek set the empty tub on the floor. 

Stiles didn’t seem to notice. Instead he busied himself by chewing on his straw.

_Ugh_. Derek thought about all the grease Stiles’s hands were covered in. He grabbed a napkin, taking each one of Stiles’s fingers and wiping them with antibacterial he’d carried in his pocket. Carefully Derek rubbed along each of Stiles’s digits, moving up and down tightly before scrubbing along Stiles’s palm. When he finished, pleased with himself, he took Stiles’s hand in his, settling more comfortably in his seat and took a look at how engaged Stiles was in the movie now.

Apparently not very much. Stiles’s mouth was open, face flushed. His breathing was shallow, he looked… distracted. Derek paused, but it was the hip shift that gave it away. _Well_ , Derek thought, filing that piece of information away, _someone likes their fingers to be played with._  

Briefly he ran his thumb over Stiles’s thumb, softly stroking the skin. Stiles shifted again, his head turning to Derek. “Stop that,” he hissed. Derek feigned innocence, giving his best face of confusion. Stiles glared at him. “I’ll kiss you with a butter-popcorn mouth,” he threatened jokingly. It was a joke; Stiles had never made a move on Derek since their fight, afraid to take things too far. 

Derek’s thumb stopped moving. Stiles smirked in victory, wiggling back in his seat. But Derek hadn’t stopped due to surrender. He’d stopped because he’d realized how much he’d _like_ to be kissed in the dark theater, buttery popcorn or no. The lack of contact between them felt maddening. 

“Okay,” Derek whispered.

Stiles shivered, head looking back at Derek. His eyes were wide and open, taking in Derek’s face. “Okay?” he asked softly, leaning into Derek’s space. It was permission, confirmation. 

“Okay,” Derek breathed back at him. “I can suffer through a buttery popcorn mouth.” He quickly squeezed Stiles’s hand, reminding him Derek was joking with the latter half of his statement. And thinking about Stiles’s threat, he stroked Stiles’s thumb again. 

Stiles reached over to Derek’s head and crashed their lips together, the kiss somewhere flickering between tentative and desperate. Derek encouraged Stiles along, opening his mouth and sucking on Stiles’s tongue.

Something inside of him sparked to life. Yes, this was what he wanted. Fun and fierce and back where they should be- enjoying each other’s company and not tip-toeing around whatever sexual attraction was between them. Stiles had learned his lesson. Derek had learned his own.

Stiles pulled back, licking his lips. “Yeah, okay. Watch the movie now,” he demanded, but his hand came to rest on Derek’s, squeezing it lightly.

 

***

 

They got something quick, from a nearby bar and grill. Stiles sat back, drinking his whiskey. “Okay. Tell me what happened in the movie.” He raised his eyebrows, ready for any answer Derek would give him.

Derek opted for drinking his gin instead of answering, pointedly not looking at Stiles. He still had no idea what the movie had been about.

The billionaire sighed, exasperated. “Dang it, Derek,” he replied. “What were you doing the entire time?”

Derek wanted to answer with detailed fantasies involving Stiles’s fingers but they were in a public place, so he opted for something more G-rated. “I don’t think I’ve been to a movie like that since I was sixteen,” he confessed instead. 

Stiles’s playful frustration fell away at once. He opened his mouth to speak but Derek continued, his fingers playing with the glass, noting how Stiles’s eyes were torn between sexy thoughts involving Derek’s fingers and sad thoughts about Derek’s past. “It was nice, though. Nice to do stuff again.” 

“You know,” Stiles muttered, his hands reaching to Derek’s and holding them across the table, “I don’t think I’ve seen a movie without Scott in a while.” He took another drink, nodding at the eyebrows betraying the sugar baby’s interest. “We used to sneak into movies at Beacon Hills. I had all the codes and times, I knew all the shifts. We found some of the best places to hide and since we were young, people assumed we’d come in with a family.” Stiles sighed dreamily, remembering the past. “Good times.” 

“Bet your father wasn’t too happy about it,” Derek supposed. He could imagine the sheriff’s exasperated face, asking Stiles what he did this time.

Stiles laughed. “Ah, he wasn’t. But it was Laura…” Stiles’s voice trailed off. Derek’s eyes perked up. Laura? His sister Laura? “Laura finally caught onto us. When we were 17.” Stiles let go of Derek’s hand. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up your family.” 

Oh. It _was_ his sister. “Don’t worry about it,” Derek told him, needing another sip suddenly. What was she doing now? Did she manage the theater? “Can’t be helped. Did she hold it over you for ages?” 

Knowing that Derek was okay with his sister being brought up, Stiles relaxed for a moment. His tension practically melted away. Derek was envious. He was simply better at hiding his tension.

“Oh yeah,” Stiles uttered. “She made us clean the toilets for a _month_ in exchange for not telling my dad.” 

It sounded so much like her. Derek smiled fondly at his glass. “Do…” it sounded strange. It probably would be a strange question, but Derek wanted to know. “Do you know what happened to her?” Here he was, asking Stiles about his family, about his past, dragging Stiles into what shouldn’t have been his business. 

Stiles complied immediately though, answering as best he could, not missing a beat. “She ended up going to college. Going to take over your mother’s business, I think.” He looked so _proud_ to have this information, to be giving Derek something precious.

“Good,” Derek confessed. Though he wanted to, he didn’t press for more information. It wasn’t fair to Stiles to drag him into Hale family business. So instead, he reached his hand back to where Stiles’s lay on the table, entwining their fingers. “How’s your father doing?” 

Stiles happily told him, talking about the latest fishing trip his father had ventured on, how he was going to bring him to their city. He didn’t mention the possibility of Derek meeting him which was fine with Derek. They weren’t officially boyfriends, so there was no need to involve Stiles’s father. 

Stiles finished and looked over at Derek. “Your family?” he asked after awhile. So he had noticed Derek’s tension. Derek was merely lying to himself when he thought he could hide his anxiousness.

“I don’t talk to them,” Derek admitted, finishing his drink. 

Stiles didn’t pry further, but he did move to stroke Derek’s thumb with his own, a mimicry of what Derek had done earlier. But rather than lust or flirtation, warmth spread up Derek’s grip. He found himself smiling at Stiles, thanking him and wishing he could take this man home for the evening.  

 

***

 

Still a little tipsy, Derek turned the photo over and over again in his hands. He could see all of them clearly in his mind, playing in the summertime, his mother and father watching them run around foolishly. It’d been almost ten years since he’d talked to them. It’d been a long, long time since he’d talked to them. 

He remembered sneaking out at night; not sure where to go but knowing what he could do, knowing how much money he could earn without Kate. He knew her secrets; how she kept her money, how she invested, how she advertised. Without her as a pimp, he could pocket 100% of the cash. He took his best belongings in a bag and stole $500 from his mother’s wallet. In the day he went to the bank and withdrew his college saving’s account and paid for his first apartment in cash, the whole year’s rent. 

He never looked back.

But now he held his phone in his hands, looking at the picture, wondering if he shouldn’t maybe call. If he shouldn’t maybe say something, find something. 

What would be said? _Hey Mom, still a prostitute just like you found me. At least I have savings now._  

_Hey Peter, you were right, still not worth anything to the family._

_Hey Laura, what do you know, Kate was a bitch, should have stuck with Paige, you win._

He set the frame down, laying back in bed. 

His fingers dialed the familiar number, never pressing send. He hand’t seen it in a long time. Maybe they weren’t even there anymore. Maybe they’d all moved on, found new places. He wanted to know about them. He wanted to know what they were doing.

Derek checked the time. 

3am. Not a time to call anyone. It’d be midnight back home.

Still, his fingers trailed over the send button, finally pressing down. At least he could hear their voices, right? There was so much he wanted to know. 

The phone rang, once, twice. Derek wanted to hang up, but he kept listening to it ring. 

Once. Twice.

Finally a voice spoke on the other side. 

“Do you have _any_ idea what time it is?” 

“Fuck you too, Uncle Peter.” He could almost see Peter’s shocked face. Somehow it made him the tiniest bit gleeful. “It’s Derek. Is Mom awake?” 

There was a sharp intake of breath. “Derek,” Peter said weakly, his tone warbling. “You’re alright?” 

Not like Peter cared, Derek thought, but he had to go through him to talk to his mother. “I’m fine,” he answered curtly. “Is Mom awake?” 

“She’s getting back from a late night,” Peter replied smoothly, but his voice was a little slurred. Probably for the same reason Derek’s voice was slurred: drinking. “She’ll be here in about ten minutes or so, if you wait.” 

Derek could hear footfalls, a low woman’s voice asking, “Who is it?”

“It’s your brother,” Peter answered. To Derek, he asked, “Can I put you on speakerphone? Or is this a delicate matter?” 

Derek could barely resist his growl. “Put me on speakerphone. I had a bit to drink, met someone from Beacon Hills. Wanted to know how you all were doing. I’m not in trouble this time.” 

Peter gave a long inhale, thinking. Derek didn’t want to know what scenarios were running through his Uncle’s head. Probably they expected him to ask for money, or to be dying or for him to be in a hospital somewhere. Those scenarios had happened before. “You’ve been drinking.” 

“No more than you,” Derek shot back defensively. “Put me on speakerphone, for fuck’s sake.” 

Derek could almost _hear_ the hesitation. After a few moments, his uncle gave in. “As you want, dear nephew.” 

The sounds of the house floated in through his ears. “Linden?” Laura asked. Derek felt something stab his heart. His youngest brother wasn’t at home. “Did something happen at college?” 

“Not Linden,” Derek breathed, listening to Laura’s breath quickening over the phone. “Hey, Laura. It’s been a while.” 

“Derek,” Laura countered, her voice somehow thin. “Why are you calling this late, Derek? Are you in trouble?” Derek could practically hear the concern in her voice, reserved with suspicion. Of course he was dead to them all. Of course he was. 

“Of course he is,” came another voice- Cora. It was Cora. “Why else would he call us? Isn’t that why he called last time?” 

Derek felt his chin set. He could practically hear Peter’s concerned hush. “The sheriff called you last time,” Derek said tightly, “Because I had been raped repeatedly while my girlfriend charged money for it.” Uncomfortable feelings welled up deep inside his gut; he didn’t like this. Not at all. “Never mind,” he breathed. “This was a mistake.”

He moved to hang up the phone when Laura’s voice stopped him. “Why did you call, Derek?” 

Derek could hear her concern. If he stood there, in the old entryway, he’d probably see Peter at the phone and Laura and Cora on the stairwell, looking over the railing. His mother would probably come in through the hall, seeing her family half-draped over the room and wonder what was going on. 

“I…” the words stopped in his throat. In his mind he could scream them, shout them until they came true. But they stopped in his mouth, stuck on the emotions that threatened to pour out. He breathed in again. “I wanted to know how you’re all doing,” he admitted softly. 

Tears pricked at his eyes and he struggled to push them away. This was stupid. There was no reason to call. He’d cut them out of his life, he couldn’t just go back and ruin them like that. 

Laura’s voice dragged him out of his thoughts. “Well,” Laura stated. “I’m engaged.” 

Derek smiled at that, remembering all the times Laura had yelled at him that she wasn’t a bride in their childhood. “He’s a good man?” 

He could practically feel the smile in her voice. “Good enough to marry. Linden’s away, at college. He’s studying medicine.” Her voice seemed dim. “Cora-“ 

“Cora is currently badass,” Cora interrupted, sounding sure of herself “And Peter’s an alcoholic.” 

“My Cora, what a big mouth you have,” Peter snapped at her. “Perhaps you should use it to get a job.” 

“Volunteer work is a job,” she countered. 

Derek could practically see their bickering, smiling as he listened. “Where’s Dad?” he asked Laura, knowing neither Cora nor Peter would break from their fight once they’d started. 

The room got quiet. Laura took a breath. “He’s out of town.” She answered. Given how Cora and Peter were still throwing barbs at each other in the background, albeit softly, Derek wasn’t too concerned about the news. His father went out of town a lot. 

“What on earth is going on?” 

The phone fell from Derek’s grip as he heard Talia’s voice ring through the door. “Why are you all up around the phone? Is Linden calling again?” 

“Wrong son,” Peter answered cryptically. “It’s been fun, Derek, but I’ve got more to drink tonight. Ta-ta.” 

“Derek?” Talia asked, confusion heavy in her voice.

Was she angry? Did she hate him? Derek couldn’t breathe. He picked up the phone, trying to say something. “Stop picking on Cora, Uncle Peter.” 

Peter called out something in the distance, something Derek couldn’t hear. “Hey, Mom,” he managed to say offhandedly, not thinking about what he’d said. “Just… wanted to call. Hear about your life.” 

Talia picked up the phone, turning it off speaker. “To bed you two,” she told her daughters. “Are you okay, Derek?” she asked. Again with the pause, as if Derek were calling for money. 

“Doing really well,” Derek told her honestly. “Not on drugs. Not drinking. Got a nice apartment here in the city, got a great roommate. Made 15k last month. Have enough to pay you back that $500 I took,” he joked. It sounded forced, but it was that or crying. “I just… I met someone from Beacon Hills,” he began. “And he told me about Laura’s job at the theater.” 

There was a pause. Then a sound of recognition. “Her theater job. That was so long ago, I remember. It was a good job for her,” Talia acknowledged.

Derek continued, wondering how aged his mother had been in his absence. “And I wanted to… to know. About what your lives are like. What’s been happening since I left.” Derek paused. “I mean, if you want to tell me.” 

Talia made a cooing sound. “Of course I want to tell you,” she lovingly spoke. Derek felt more afraid right then in that moment than he’d been in a while. He was loved and the knowledge that he was loved scared him. He wasn’t worthy of it.

“How are you mentally?” Talia asked. 

He figured honesty would be the best answer. After all, he didn’t have anything to hide and he couldn’t make them any more worried than they had been. “Anxiety. Depression,” Derek told her. “PTSD for a while, but I’ve mostly got that under my belt now. Uh, lots of defense mechanisms. Pretty stoic guy, all in all.” He breathed. “But my job pays well and my roommates in the same business. Meet with a lot of different people.” 

“Like Stiles Stilinski,” Talia commented. 

_She knew._ Derek held his breath.

“Your father saw the article,” she revealed. “Whatever you’re doing, so long as you’re safe, sweetie.” 

His mother knew what he did. Or suspected. Or she knew enough to know not to ask. She had always been this wise in life and Derek was grateful she didn’t pry. “He’s a nice guy, mom,” Derek told her. “When he’s not got his head stuck up his ass.”

Talia laughed. “I can believe it. Tell me your e-mail, Derek. I have so many photos to show you.” 

And easily, his personal address came from his mouth, his soul somewhat lighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good news is I've regained my groove in writing. I've got a backlog of a couple of chapters left, and so I'm going to try and update on M-W-F. If not even more often, that is. :)


	9. Chapter 9

Like all things with Stiles, Derek found himself at yet another business party. However, the company was much more pleasant and both men were free to mingle. This time Derek found himself conversing with Scott McCall. It was easier than ever to strike up discussion with Scott since Stiles had pointed out they were all from Beacon Hills. “I saw your work with the Peterson project,” Derek told him over a martini glass. “I thought it was brilliant.” 

Scott beamed while looking a little sheepishly into his own glass. “I had to fight my Dad a lot on that one,” he answered honestly. “But it paid off, in the end.” Scott pointedly looked over at Stiles, currently talking something over with Rafa. “So you and Stiles made up then?” 

Derek shrugged, following Scott’s gaze. “As much as we can. There’ll be other fights, I’m sure. But we worked through it.” He looked at Stiles affectionately, watching his billionaire fight the urge to wave his hands around mindlessly. “I’m glad. He’s an entertaining guy.” 

“He carried a torch for you for a bit,” Scott murmured, sipping his glass. “Tried to find out where you’d gone after you came back. Didn’t work out.” 

Derek raised an eyebrow. “Wasn’t he obsessed with some redhead at the time?” His memory was a little fuzzy, but even he could remember an awkward gangly teenager holding a boom box and playing loud declarations of love. When Scott grinned, Derek realized the trap he’d fallen into. He’d been claiming he didn’t remember much, but Scott had pulled out a memory for him. 

“Gotcha.” At least the marketing genius had the decency to hide his smirk behind his glass.

Not really riled up, Derek smiled back. If only Scott knew what Stiles had told him, that Stiles used to _want_ him in high school, according to their make-up walk, he might not have made the joke. Derek had been on Stiles’s desirable list for quite a while. “It’s been a good month,” Derek revealed to the other man.

“It should be,” Scott uttered. “Hey, I don’t know if he’s told you, but his birthday’s coming up. On Friday.” They both noticed Stiles’s eyes scowling at them. If Stiles didn’t know what they were talking about, he could easily guess.

Derek gave Stiles a small smile. “He hasn’t told me, actually,” he uttered, and Scott nodded. Stiles continued to look between the two before Kali stepped in front of him, distracting him. Briefly Derek wondered how her new sex worker was working out, but he let the idea slide. Birthdays. 

Scott set his empty glass down. “He doesn’t like them. The media likes to do a field day with him on it, so they’ll follow him around, take a couple pictures if they can and get him for an interview in the morning.” The marketing professional turned to face Derek. “But he’d probably like something small.”

“I’ll make a note of it,” Derek assured Scott, giving Stiles a sly smile. Stiles glared at him from across the room. “Thanks for the heads up.” 

Scott smiled sweetly when Stiles stomped over to their location, immediately pinning himself on Derek’s arm. Luckily, years of experience kept Derek from reacting when his heart fluttered in his chest at the contact. “What were you two gentlemen doing here?” Stiles teased coyly. There was no doubt he knew exactly what had happened. 

“Oh, secrets,” Scott said offhandedly. Quickly he made his exit. “By the way, I’ve got to go talk to my dad. Nice talking to you, Derek.” 

Derek waved goodbye. Huffing, Stiles sat to Derek’s right and picked up what was left of Scott’s drink. He looked somewhere between tired, worn-down, and enthusiastic. But as Derek continued looking, Stiles’s eyes started closing, barely able to keep himself awake. His head dipped just a little. 

Derek smiled. “Come on,” he mentioned to Stiles, motioning for a staff member. “Could you get our car ready?” He inquired politely.

“Right away sir,” the staff member assured him, heading off. Stiles grumbled as Derek gently brought the billionaire to his feet, slowly walking him over to the coat rack. 

“I’m fine,” Stiles mumbled, Derek helping him into his coat. “Just a long coupe of days.” He sighed as Derek let go long enough to put on his own coat. Taking Stiles’s arm again, Derek lead them to the elevator.

It wasn’t until the elevator that Derek dared ask. “How many days have you been awake, Stiles?” he inquired. Stiles held up three fingers. He grinned as Derek huffed. “That’s too many. Go home and get to sleep.”

Stiles frowned. “I’m fine. Gotta work hard before Friday, yeah?” He stretched out a little, his face so tired and yawning. Derek wanted to kiss him right then. But he’d wait. 

The elevator doors opened and this time Derek followed Stiles into the car, telling Parrish where to drop him off. Stiles immediately fell onto Derek’s lap. “Don’t argue. I’m tired.” 

“You’re ruining my pants,” Derek attempted halfheartedly. His fingers lifted up to Stiles’s hair, massaging the billionaire’s scalp as the car turned on, moving forward.

“Feels nice,” Stiles breathed hotly into his knee. 

Restraining against admitting how nice Stiles felt in his lap, Derek tried for something else. “Your hair feels nice,” he replied. “Your hands feel nice.” He watched as Stiles’s breathing slowed down until the man softly slept on his leg. Warmth spread in Derek’s chest, a fond affection that Derek knew was growing far too deep. Even their fight hadn’t quelled this feeling.

“You feel nice,” Derek whispered, knowing he wouldn’t be heard, continuing to enjoy the warmth from the billionaire’s body pressed against his leg. Lights flickered by outside and washed over them like electric streams. Derek enjoyed the atmosphere or so, then carefully slid his hand into his pocket, typing out a message to Erica about his safety. 

The car made a hard right turn and Stiles snapped awake with a snort. “Where?” 

“Halfway to my place,” Derek said softly, his left hand coming to Stiles’s hair again. “Go back to sleep, you.” He tapped softly on Stiles’s skull. 

For a moment, Derek thought Stiles had obeyed. Stiles’s head obediently fell back on Derek’s leg and Stiles took in a breath. But then Stiles spoke. “Do you have any plans on Friday?” he asked. 

“I don’t, actually,” Derek informed him. “I did hear it’s somebody’s birthday, though.” He smiled as Stiles stiffened underneath him. 

Stiles huffed. “Of course he did.” He turned over, looking up at Derek. “My dad’s going to be in town. And if we’re doing this… this thing, I was wondering if you wanted to meet him?” 

Meeting the parents was a boyfriend thing. A love thing, not a sugaring thing. Parents were intimate, a sign the other person really trusted you. Plus, if their arrangement ever ended Stiles would be stuck explaining to the sheriff why things didn’t work out. Parents were never in sugaring relationships. 

“I’d love to meet your father,” Derek replied automatically, adding the event to his calendar and slipping his cell phone back in his pocket. “I owe him a pizza, after all.” 

Stiles glared. “That pizza was mine,” he mumbled, but turned over and resumed resting.

 

***

 

The restaurant Stiles directed Derek to was something pretentious and vegan. It didn’t surprise Derek, who remembered the sheriff complaining about his son trying to take care of his health ten years ago. The restaurant wasn’t too fancy and relatively unknown, so Derek decided to wear something low-key today. He shaved his face beforehand, just a little, in hopes it would help the sheriff recognize him. He wasn’t sure if Stiles was introducing Derek as a friend or a boyfriend so he’d figured it best to be prepared for anything. 

Stiles was waiting for him outside the restaurant, his father right behind him. He barely recognized the sheriff from this distance. “Derek!” Stiles called out. Derek waved, walking towards the two of them. He watched the sheriff’s face, confused, trying to place Derek’s familiar name and face. 

“Long time no see, sheriff,” Derek uttered, holding out his hand. “It’s been what, ten years?” 

Recognition bloomed over Sheriff Stilinski’s features, nodding to himself as he shook Derek’s hand. “Derek Hale,” he uttered. “Who would have known you’d found my son on this side of the country?” 

Stiles smiled between them. “Small world,” he stated quickly, looking at the door anxiously. Derek caught his eye as Stiles gestured with his head to hurry it up. Given Stiles’s smiles at both of them, he figured Stiles was more hungry than nervous about their meeting. Derek could work with that.

Teasing Stiles, Derek held onto the sheriff’s hand for just a little bit longer. His grin went a little wider than normal. They both let go after another moment, the sheriff turning to Stiles. “How ever did you find him, Stiles?” he inquired, looking at his son incredulously. 

Stiles shrugged as if it were no big deal. “Online,” he answered, holding the door open for both of them. As his father walked further in Stiles came up behind Derek and whispered in his ear. “It’s my birthday today,” he said, nudging Derek’s shoulder playfully. 

“Is it?” Derek asked, continuing to head forward. “Does that mean something to me?” He smiled as Stiles sputtered just a little. Wanting to push it just a little farther, he took Stiles’s hand and placed it on his ass. “There you go. Happy birthday,” he stated nonchalantly. 

“Boys,” the sheriff warned, turning to look at them with exasperation in his eyes. He was probably used to Stiles’s antics by now. The seating hostess looked plenty interested, though.

Stiles stiffened behind Derek, moving a little to the side, out from behind the dark-haired sugar baby. “Sorry, Dad,” he apologized, looking thoroughly ashamed. Not ashamed enough to _not_ squeeze Derek’s ass, Derek noted, keeping still despite the illicit thrill it sent up his spine. 

Stiles took another moment to practically knead the flesh he found there. Used to his behavior, his father merely raised an unimpressed eyebrow. Certainly he knew that they were dating now. Stiles threw his hands up in the air in surrender. “Sorry,” he stated again. Turning to the hostess, he uttered, “Um, Stilinski? Party of three?”

“Right this way, sirs,” the woman announced, blushing as she led them to a reserved room in the back. Derek shot her a grin as he sat down. “Your waiter will be right with you.”

They looked over the menu, Stiles sitting next to his father and eyeing his father’s choices warily. “You don’t want that, Dad,” Stiles said quickly. 

“Derek,” the sheriff asked innocently, “Did I ever tell you the time I handcuffed Stiles to my desk?” 

Much to Derek’s amusement, Stiles flailed around in his chair, his limbs coming outward just a bit to reveal his surprise. “Hey, _no_ , Dad, no,” he attempted, setting his father’s menu down. 

“Why no, Sheriff,” Derek replied, playing along. Stiles’s jaw dropped in indignation, huffing and crossing his arms. He looked like a bird with its feathers ruffled. And adorable with a pouty little mouth that Derek could see being used in other times that did not have Stiles’s father sitting across from the table. He turned his eyes back to the sheriff. 

Sheriff Stilinski grinned. “If I don’t get to order this thing here,” he continued, tapping the menu, “you will.” 

Stiles glared angrily at his father. “That’s blackmail,” he uttered. “Total and complete blackmail. That’s illegal in some states. I have a lawyer for that.” 

“Yes, Lydia’s very good at what she does,” The sheriff allowed. “But I think she’d side with me on this one.” He looked over at Derek. “Does Stiles watch your diet as closely as he does mine?” 

“Hey!” Stiles protested. But Derek could tell there was a little bit of anxiousness behind his protest. Perhaps the words were more true than Stiles wanted Derek to know. 

So Derek thought, thinking of all the times Stiles had offered him food, had taken him to dinners. “I can’t say so, sir,” Derek replied. “Then again, I’m pretty strict with my diet. Even Stiles can’t find anything to criticize.” Apparently that was the right answer. Stiles gave him a soft, subtle smile. Derek returned one back, gleefully noting how flustered Stiles seemed get at it. 

“That’s quite a diet,” the sheriff mused. He seemed engrossed in his menu, but Derek could see his eyes shift to the side from time to time. No doubt he’d already picked up on some hint of their relationship, what with the hand on Derek’s ass and all.

The waiter came by and took their orders, bringing them waters for the time being. When the Sheriff ordered scotch, Derek nodded to himself. “I see where Stiles’s gets his love of the drink,” Derek commented. 

The sheriff tapped his son’s hand both lovingly and threateningly. “I suspect Stiles had acquired a taste of it in high school,” he admitted, shooting his son a dirty glare. “What about you, Derek? What’s your drink of choice?” 

“Derek tries not to drink,” Stiles answered for him. “He’ll take the choice with the least amount of alcohol.” 

Surprise shot through Derek. “I’m surprised you noticed,” he admitted. Stiles wasn’t usually around long enough to watch when Derek drank anything, and when he offered, Derek always partook. It was incredible how Stiles could pick up on such a detail.

The billionaire shrugged. “I notice things,” he explanied. “For a while, we thought I was going to be an investigator.” He shrugged again. “Then I figured privacy apps would be more useful, and they bloomed.” He looked over at his father’s scotch. “How was the plane ride over, Dad?” 

“Long. Uneventful,” his father replied. “Boring. It was nice of you to put me in first class, though.”

They talked about transit for a while, Stiles comparing different versions of first class. The waiter came and brought in their food. Derek was halfway through his pesto and pasta when the sheriff addressed him. 

“So I heard from Talia that you called home the other night,” he remarked. Surprised, Stiles looked up with his mouth full of curly fries. Derek kept his own eyes on his pasta. 

“I thought you’d stopped speaking to your family,” Stiles attempted to say, though it took a mean look from his father to spit the fries out and repeat the sentence again.

“As did I,” the sheriff answered. “But she was very happy to hear from you.” 

Derek nodded. “I, uh, I had to go away for a while,” he uttered. “I hadn’t really planned on dragging them into my life again.” He moved his fork around his plate, watching it make patterns in the sauce. “But Stiles was talking about Laura, and I… I just wanted to know how they were doing.” 

This wasn’t very sugar baby like. Nothing about this should happen in the sugar bowl. He would never meet Stiles’s family, never talk about his own in this way. This was more like a date. Like an intimate part of dating Derek wasn’t familiar with. 

He took a steadying breath as he continued. “So I guess I have your son’s influence to thank,” he added, looking over at Stiles’s face. Stiles seemed almost proud, like a puppy who had done something really, really good. Derek smiled at him and Stiles practically beamed pride. 

“Well, you’re the first person he’s had a good influence on,” the sheriff commented dryly. He paused for a moment before setting his napkin on the table. “Excuse me for a moment, boys,” he uttered, leaving the room and probably heading for the restroom. 

Stiles was practically leaning over the table. “Because of me?” he inquired curiously, eyes wide and excited. 

Derek nodded. “Yeah.” He replied, standing up a little. “That reminds me.” He stood, walking around the table to where the billionaire sat. “I remembered your birthday gift.” He held out an empty palm. 

Stiles stared at it, puzzled. “What-“

Using that pause, Derek struck. He leaned in and messily pressed their mouths together.

It didn’t surprise Derek that the billionaire attempted to speak through the kiss. Having anticipated that, Derek continued kissing, waiting for it to register to Stiles that they _were_ kissing. When Stiles finally understood what was going on his mouth remained open. He tasted like garlic and spice and nothing appetizing, but the way his body suddenly went pliant, the way his hands suddenly grabbed Derek’s hair, that was appetizing enough. Derek never wanted to stop kissing him.

Alas, Stiles was the one who decided to stop it, pulling away a little. He took a deep breath before speaking, his eyes on Derek’s spit-slick lips. “That had better not be the present,” he huffed. 

Smirking, Derek leaned in and kissed him again, pressing Stiles against his seat. Stiles fought back, his tongue sneaking into Derek’s mouth, his body thrumming with contented happiness. It wasn’t a lust-filled kiss. It couldn’t be, not with the sheriff coming back soon. Yet it satisfied something in Derek and at the same time made him hunger for more. He pulled away, nearly preening over how Stiles’s chest was heaving, how flushed his face was. “You have my permission to do that whenever you want,” Derek teased him. “Happy birthday.” 

Stiles grinned, his tongue running over his lips. Derek smiled and started walking back to his seat. “Best birthday ever,” he uttered. 

“Glad to hear it, son,” the sheriff said, opening the door to the room. “I hope you planned to get me a real dessert.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is much longer, and should be up 48 hours from this posting. :)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Rape: Last two scenes involve dealing with a rape victim immediately after rape. This is where the big warning label comes in. It's not a graphic scene per say, but it will make uncomfortable feelings rise in all of us as it deals with emotional content and with the rapist spewing unrealistic excuses.
> 
> You are welcome to skip the last two scenes and wait for the next chapter, which is fluffy. :)

**Message To: Stiles**

Can I meet you at your office?

**End message**

Erica was in the middle of leaving for work. “I’m headed out,” Erica told Derek, hugging him goodbye. “I’m going to be next door to that new girl I told you about, Eileen? She’s the one who took Kali for me.” 

“Alright,” Derek replied. “Are you going to contact me, still?” He watched her pull on her wicked heels. 

“Totally. She’s going to check in with me, but I’m going to check in with you.” Erica flipped her hair to the side, checking herself out in the mirror. “Red enough,” she decided. 

Derek waved her off, listening to her heels clip and clop in the hallway. He had his own things to prepare for. Namely, he thought as he headed to the bathroom and washing his face, he had shopping to prepare for. 

The sugar baby remembered the strange message Stiles had sent him as Derek applied the moisturizer to his face. The gist was mostly Lydia had demanded Derek get new outfits. Rather than give Derek his credit card, like other sugar daddies, Stiles wanted to help him try some suits on. So they were headed out for shopping, followed by maybe a nice dinner and maybe some kisses, if Derek was lucky. He’d like to kiss Stiles. He’d like to keep kissing Stiles forever if he could. 

The phone buzzed back on his bed- a client calling his work number, judging by the ringtone. Derek sighed and wiped his hands on the towel, headed back for his bedroom. The number was new- a new client. Strange. He didn’t remember picking up a new client, but maybe they’d been recommended to him. “Hello?” he asked. 

“So you do pick up your phone.” 

Deucalion. Immediately Derek hung up, blocking the number. He couldn’t believe Deucalion was still out to find him. Sitting down, he tried to intake a breath. He wouldn’t let this ruin his outing with Stiles. He wouldn’t. 

After a few minutes, he felt calm again. Good thing he’d given himself plenty of time to prepare. 

 

***

 

Derek met Stiles outside his office, dressed in black slacks and a button-up top. Derek had half expected a suit, but when he thought about it, Stiles’s slacks made sense. Last time they’d met here Stiles had been going to the party, so he’d probably changed into a suit during the day. Derek further wondered if this was what Stiles wore in his office or if it’s what he wore because he was meeting Derek. It didn’t matter. Stiles looked good either way.

“So Lydia says three new suits,” Stiles announced as Derek stepped out of his taxi. Derek raised his eyebrows inquisitively before Stiles shook his head. “Uh, right. Hello.” 

“Good to see you, Stiles,” Derek greeted. The taxi spun off, leaving the two of them in front of the building. “Long day at work?” 

“Not the best day at work,” Stiles admitted, reaching for Derek’s hand and holding it tightly. Although initially surprised at the affection, the pleased look on Stiles’s face was enough to keep Derek quiet. The billionaire looked so pleased simply by holding hands in public. It was nothing short of adorable.

Derek leaned over and gave him a peck on the cheek. “Thanks for spending time with me,” he purred. “Daddy.” 

Stiles’s face immediately went red to suddenly amused, laughing at the word. Even though he was technically the sugar daddy, their age difference had meant he never been the older one. “No problem, _baby_ ,” he responded, but the word rolled off his tongue a little too well for Derek’s liking. It felt _right_ coming from Stiles’s mouth, more a pet name than anything. 

Already this early in the encounter, Derek was _wired_. 

“So Parrish is going to be driving something a lot smaller than the limo,” Stiles admitted, waving to his driver as a black SUV pulled up. “But it’ll be easier to get parking this way.” He opened the door for Derek to get in.

“True enough,” Derek uttered, looking at the black leather interior. The two front seats had been removed for more legroom, so Derek quickly sat in the back, nodding to Parrish as the driver smiled at him. Stiles tumbled in behind him, the door shutting automatically. 

“Here,” Stiles told Parrish, handing him a card. “Lydia demanded we go to these places.” He sat back as Parrish rolled the car forward. Turning to Derek, Stiles apologized. “I’m sorry that your Daddy needs his lawyer to tell him when to buy you new suits,” he joked. 

“Don’t be,” Derek replied. “I didn’t realize my clothes had gone so far out of fashion.” He rolled his shoulders back, trying to get comfortable. Maybe it was also to watch Stiles stare at him with darkening eyes and sinful intent. “This way you get to dress me in what you’d like to see me in, right?” 

Stiles’s face froze for a moment before going even redder. “Y-yeah,” he stuttered, looking away. 

Something _dirty_ was going through Stiles’s head. Derek wanted to know what it was. He’d had lots of practice making people’s fantasies come to life, so helping Stiles wouldn’t be a problem. Besides, if Stiles knew what Derek fantasized about… well, they might not have stopped at awkward kissing the last time. So he leaned over to Stiles’s ear, making his voice as low and sultry as he could. “What are you thinking about?” 

Stiles shivered, his eyes closing. Derek pulled away, pleased to get such a reaction out of Stiles. Certainly Stiles was thinking about Derek in bed. 

Suddenly Stiles leaned up and pressed their mouths together, something wet and hungry and open. Obligingly Derek opened his mouth, letting Stiles have his fill. After all, Derek had given permission before _and_ he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to be making out with Stiles all the time.

Sharply the car turned right and Stiles pulled away, eying Parrish. When the driver appeared to pay them no mind, Stiles leaned back in his seat, convinced he’d gotten away with the stolen kiss unnoticed. “I was picturing you in what I’d like to see you in,” he answered contentedly. His fingers moved as if to tap the armrest, but they relaxed. 

Apparently the key to keeping Stiles still was to relieve his sexual tension. Derek filed that note away for later. “And what was I in?” Derek asked, hoping Stiles wouldn’t answer “me”. 

The fates were with Derek today. “Black briefs,” Stiles replied easily. “I mean, I’ve seen you over the phone, and it’s great, by the way. But sometime, I’d like to see you… not in the phone,” he finished lamely. Today was not a day for Stiles’s words. 

It was a good day for Stiles’s mouth, however, Derek allowed himself to think. “Well today’s a good day for that,” Derek noted, watching as Stiles stiffened just a little- all parts of him, from his fingers to his knees. Derek placed his hand on Stiles’s knee. “If you’re up for it, of course.” 

“Yeah, well, we’ll see.” He placed his hand on top of Derek’s. “Thanks for coming out on such short notice,” he added. Seeing Derek’s puzzled face, he added, “It’s nice not to be so involved in my work, you know? Nice to know other people exist. To do normal things once in a while.” 

“I’m glad it helps you,” Derek answered. It felt painfully honest between them. He was glad to be helping Stiles, even when it seemed Derek was the one getting most of the help.

“We’re here,” Parrish announced, pulling up to the humble building on the side of the road. Derek and Stiles unbuckled their belts, Derek moving towards the door first. As Parrish opened it, Derek felt a hand on his ass. 

Derek glared backwards at Stiles but the billionaire only shrugged. “Gotta keep my balance,” he said innocently. His face twitched though, a sign he was nervous. 

Derek rolled his eyes. “I’m going to get you back for that,” he bantered playfully. Stiles relaxed now that Derek had given the go-ahead. He squeezed his hand a little, making sure to get a nice handful of ass and Derek hopped out of the car, his ass safe. 

Stiles stepped out of the car next, nodding to himself as he took in the building. “Lydia took me here to get my first suit,” he announced. “They’ll have good ones for you, I’m sure.” 

Derek was also sure, though mostly because he believed in Lydia. Stiles led him inside, happily coming up to the employee folding socks on a display. The sugar baby took a moment to look around the story. Jackets of every shape and color hung inside, from relaxed to slim to extra-wide. There were shirts for display as well, with high collars and low collars and relaxed collars. It wasn’t too impressive, just like any other store he’d been to. That’s how he’d gotten his previous suits after all. 

Excitement still tingled through him, though, at being able to do all of this _with_ Stiles. He wanted to know what Stiles thought of him, he wanted to flirt and tease Stiles in the dressing room. He wanted to help distract Stiles from his day, to make Stiles feel better. 

Stiles looked over to Derek and smiled, an evil little smile. Derek suddenly worried about his resolve to make Stiles feel better during the day. Stiles sauntered over to him. “You’ve got to get _measured_ ,” he teased, moving to face the employee together. Sneakily Stiles’s hand moved its way back to Derek’s ass, squeezing just a little. 

Derek flexed his ass in retaliation, keeping his interested smile plastered on his face. “Thanks so much for doing this,” he told the employee while Stiles’s eyes nearly rolled in the back of his head at feeling Derek’s glutes. 

“Not a problem,” the employee replied evenly. “Are these the shoes you’ll be wearing with the suit?” 

Derek looked down at his flats. “They’re about the same height,” he allowed. “They’ll do for measuring.” The employee nodded, leading them to the dressing room area with mirrors. Derek stood in front of the mirrors, watching a transfixed Stiles admire the length of white tape measure across the length of Derek’s back. 

Though it came as no surprise that Stiles admired him, he nearly preened at such blatant appreciation of his form. He’d worked hard for it. Stiles’s long hands came to rest on top of the sugar daddy’s forearms, occasionally gripping them with an attempt to keep cool while checking Derek out. 

“Turn around, please, sir,” the employee requested, and Derek did so, sticking his chest out just a little bit more than he should have. As the man placed the tape over his chest, he watched Stiles’s mouth open and eyes roll as he mouthed, “oh my God”. Derek smirked at him, eyes flashing with lust. Stiles’s own was a little less finesse, but Derek found the sheer inability to channel it endearing. Stiles’s body trembled just a little as he wiped his face with his hands. 

“I have a few jackets you could try on,” the employee told him, moving downwards for Derek’s inseam. “We can tailor a few new pieces, if you’d like.” 

Derek pretended not to notice Stiles staring at where the tape measure started. “I’ll keep it in mind, thanks.” 

The employee finished, nodding to himself as he finished marking Derek’s measurements on a piece of paper. “I’ll go get some of those sample jackets,” the man told them. “Please wait here.” 

“Won’t be going anywhere else,” Stiles muttered and promptly sat down with a hand over his crotch. Derek raised an eyebrow. “What?” Stiles defended. “You can’t blame a guy. You’ve got an impressive bod.” He shifted around a little bit, trying to will his erection down. 

“You’re free to touch,” Derek informed him. 

Stiles stared stupidly for a couple of moments, his mouth open. 

The employee returned then, right before Stiles could lift up from his seat. “Here are a couple of different fits,” the employee told Derek. “And some trousers, although they’re a little long for you as-is.” He handed the clothing to Derek, smiling. “I’ll leave you to try it on,” he announced while unlocking the dressing room. Derek stepped inside, hearing the employee’s footsteps fade away. 

Undressing, Derek pulled on the pants and the jacket over his shirt, stepping outside in front of the mirrors. “What do you think?” he asked Stiles, noting how tight the front seemed over his chest. His arms were a little tight, too. Derek had more muscle on his biceps than a lot of guys who came in, he supposed. 

“It seems a little tight,” Stiles uttered. “I could find the employee guy again, ask him for a bigger size.” When Derek turned around, he added, “It seems okay in the shoulder, though, as far as the seam.” 

“True enough,” Derek agreed, heading back into the dressing room. He shook off his jacket, and pulled off his pants, hanging them for a moment before deciding on his next course of action. Quickly he pulled off his shirt. “Hey, Stiles?” he asked. 

“Yeah?” came the response, halfway distracted. Stiles was probably looking at something on his phone.

That wouldn’t do. This was a place for Stiles to forget about work for a while. “Can you come help me with something?” Derek asked, stepping back to allow room for the billionaire to join him in the dressing room. 

Stiles gave a sigh and stood up. Grumbling he shuffled over to the door, sliding it open just a little. “What do you…” his voice fell away as he noted Derek. More specifically, a mostly-naked Derek. Stiles’s mouth remained open for a moment before stepped inside, closed the door, and swallowed. 

“You mentioned you wanted to see me in this,” Derek replied, moving to shut the door behind Stiles. It put Stiles right in front of his chest, and Stiles swallowed, clearly committing every muscle in Derek’s body to memory. 

“Yeah, but I didn’t expect you to be dressed in black briefs,” Stiles murmured, still focused on Derek’s pecs. “Holy shit, Derek.” 

It was a good sound. Derek flexed just a little, watching Stiles’s eyes widen. “Better than the photos?” he asked sweetly, noting how Stiles’s fingers were twitching. Stiles _wanted_ to touch. Stiles licked his lips, and Derek grabbed Stiles’s hand, something deep in his gut igniting as the billionaire’s breath hitched. “I said it was okay,” Derek murmured softly, brining Stiles’s hand to his pecs. 

The fingertips were timid, shaking with indecision. Stiles swallowed again as he lightly traced over Derek’s muscle. “Holy fuck,” he murmured. Derek flexed just a little, captivated by the way Stiles’s eyes widened, how his face started flushing. Stiles pushed in a little more, no longer the pads of his fingers but the others, his touch awestruck and worshipful. It sent heat directly to Derek’s gut, waves of lust that seemed to grow stronger with each passing second. 

“You’re an impressive dude,” Stiles murmured, his second hand going to join the first. Now his palms pressed against Derek’s skin, feeling his abs. “Goddamn.” Derek’s heartbeat spiked as he moved to close the gap between them, his mouth moving to Stiles’s lips. 

Stiles dodged at the last second, turning his head and shutting his eyes. Fair enough, Derek supposed. But now his lips were at the billionaire’s ear, and he took that lobe into his mouth, sucking on it just a bit, feeling Stiles’s hands shake and pause as Stiles tried to fight off his arousal. “Wanna touch _you_ ,” Derek admitted lowly.

Nearly arching upwards, Stiles breathed, “Yeah, yeah, okay.” And promptly leaned up and placed his lips against Derek’s neck. Brilliant. Heat continued to boil through Derek’s veins as Stiles continued to suck on that spot. 

Two could play this game. Derek reached underneath Stiles’s shirt, feeling up the back underneath. Stiles wasn’t as skinny as he thought, he realized. Certainly he wasn’t as well defined as Derek, but damn, he did have something. He wouldn’t break if Derek were to start pounding into him. His fingers trailed upwards, towards Stiles’s shoulder. 

Stiles’s fingers trailed lower, tentatively lower, pausing right above the line of Derek’s briefs. Derek smirked as he licked the outside of Stiles’s ear. “Go ahead,” he purred. “Measure me.” 

Stiles’s gasp was worth it. Immediately Stiles’s hands sank lower, outside the elastic waistband, over the dark fabric on his briefs. Derek pressed his lips to Stiles’s cheek, holding back a groan as Stiles’s fingers managed to draw an outline of his dick. Lightly Stiles squeezed, his hands trying to figure out the weight of it. 

Derek’s hands dug into Stiles’s back, encouraging the billionaire to explore further. 

Suddenly the air changed and Stiles stiffened up a bit. “Do… do we have to do this now?” he asked defensively, guarded. His hands fell to his sides and Derek pulled back, confused. His partner had seemed so into it minutes ago and he hoped he hadn’t crossed a line. Stiles took in a breath. “I… Could we try this… I dunno, on a bed sometime?” 

Ah. So Stiles _had_ enjoyed feeling Derek up and down. “Of course,” Derek assured him, placing a quick kiss on his lips. “Just wanted to make your day a little better, that’s all.” 

Stiles exhaled, all the stress disappearing from his face. “You did.” He breathed in again. “You have no idea how much you did.” He smiled at Derek for a moment. 

The sound of the employee’s footsteps made their way closer. Both of them jumped. 

“Okay. I’m just gonna…” Stiles opened up the door, sneaking his way out. “Wait out here for a moment,” he assured Derek. “Looks good on you,” he added, shutting the door. 

Derek grinned as the employee spoke. “Everything alright, sirs?” There was a hint of knowing in his voice, as if he knew exactly what was going on. 

“Quite alright,” Derek murmured to himself.

Luckily Stiles answered in a non-I-just-got-sexed voice. “The sleeves are a little snug,” he said quickly. “We like the cut, and the shoulders fit, but the sleeves are too narrow.” His voice moved to Derek’s direction. “Hey, Derek?” 

“Hmm?” Derek asked, pulling on his jeans. “Want me to give you the jacket?” he asked. 

“Would you, please?” Stiles inquired almost too prettily. Derek planned to have similar words fall from Stiles’s mouth later. Derek happily opened the door, aware of his shirtlessness, and handed the jacket to Stiles. The employee was unmoved by Derek’s shirtless self, but Stiles seemed proud, his eyes challenging the employee to say anything. 

“We do make the suit from scratch, if you like the cut,” the employee informed them, looking unimpressed at Derek’s body. 

Derek glanced over at Stiles, who shrugged. “I do,” Derek informed the employee. “Let’s do that, then.” The employee nodded. “I’ll go ahead and get your order ready at the front, then. Feel free to look around if there’s anything else you’d like.” He left them alone, and Derek sighed, pulling on his shirt. 

Something buzzed in his pocket- loudly. Stiles nearly jumped at the buzz. He checked his own phone, then looked at Derek’s pocket. “Sorry,” Derek told him, pulling his phone out. It was Erica, letting him know she was okay. 

“Not a problem,” Stiles muttered, but he crossed his arms and looked a little more closed-off than before. Derek couldn’t guess what exactly was going through Stiles’s head at the moment, but he did make a note to talk about it. Though it was rude to answer his text when on a date, Stiles been doing that earlier, so he didn’t feel too bad. “Let’s go pay for your stuff,” Stiles continued, walking off quickly. 

Derek followed him, hoping to try and calm some of Stiles down. As they walked to the counter he reached for Stiles’s hand, but Stiles brushed him off for a moment. Derek frowned and Stiles sighed, taking his hand and squeezing it just a little, wordlessly assuring Derek that he was all right. 

“Will you be needing anything else, sir?” The employee asked Derek. Stiles slid his hand back to his wallet, and Derek thought about if he really needed anything. Normally he would have liked to get a little bit more- socks, a tie, even undershirts wouldn’t hurt. But right now dealing with Stiles’s sudden discomfort with his phone took priority. 

“No thank you,” Derek replied. 

Stiles looked up at him. “We can get something else if you want,” he muttered, handing his card to the employee. The employee rang it up and Stiles gave his phone and address for when the suits were finished. Derek continued to say nothing, hanging back. “Thanks,” Stiles finished, taking a receipt and number, leading Derek out of the building. 

Derek opened his mouth to speak but Stiles beat him to the punch. “I’m sorry,” Stiles stated quickly. “I know we agreed we’re not exclusive but I get jealous when I hear your other clients texting you.” He looked away. 

Derek pulled out his phone. “It was from my roommate,” Derek told him softly. “She’s working today.” He unlocked his phone and handed it to Stiles. 

When Stiles looked at him for permission, Derek gave the go-ahead. “It’s for safety. If she didn’t contact me, I’d go check it out.” 

Stiles read Erica’s message and handed the phone back to Derek. “Not call 911?” 

Derek took his hand, looking at him seriously. “Not at first. If the cops got involved, she’d get arrested and a report would be against her. And some guys feel they have a right to anything, even if it isn’t agreed upon. I can’t tell you the number of guys asking for a boyfriend experience and oral who suddenly want to do anal or full intercourse in the bed.”

Stiles looked a little uncomfortable at that. Quickly trying to reassure him, Derek added, "You're not one of those guys, Stiles. This arrangement is a whole different thing." 

The words seemed to work on Stiles immediately. The billionaire's body relaxed and he nodded. “I’m sorry," he said, though Derek guessed it was more that Stiles felt he needed to say something. The sugar daddy picked up his own phone in his free hand and typed in a text with his thumb. “It seems that escorts have all the power, though, not like people who are forced into the sex market. Do people really try that often?” 

Derek smiled at his naiveté. “Do people act entitled when dining at a restaurant?” He waited as Stiles thought it over, nodding. “Same sorts of people. Basically, people are good. But you occasionally get jerks. The issue is that in a restaurant if someone attacks someone else you can call the cops. Or if they don’t pay. But in sex work, not paying is rape, and _we’ll_ get charged for it. Society loves to victim blame.” 

The car pulled up. Derek frowned. He’d tried to make his point a lot nicer than he had before, but he couldn’t help but picture Deucalion, still thinking he was entitled to Derek’s body and time.

“Those are some good points,” Stiles admitted, setting Derek’s mind at ease. “Thanks for sharing them with me.” From Stiles’s voice, Derek knew he wasn’t in trouble. Stiles left his grip only to open the door, letting Derek slide inside. 

It was nice knowing Stiles would listen to his opinion and _care_ about it. Most people just ignored what he said, pretending it wasn’t a problem or imposed their own ideas on it. “Thanks for listening,” Derek murmured. 

Stiles shut the door to their SUV and sat next to him, his eyes drinking in Derek’s form. Desire burned in Stiles’s face as he leaned over and reached for Derek’s seatbelt. Derek leaned down to kiss him, but Stiles escaped the last minute, rubbing his lips against Derek’s stubble. His hands used the seatbelt as an excuse to slide over Derek’s chest before buckling him tightly in. 

“Feels nice,” Stiles whispered, continuing to rub his lips against it. 

Derek turned to Stiles’s neck, making sure to scratch Stiles as much as he could. “You won’t be saying that later,” he joked. He pulled away, pressing a quick kiss to Stiles’s nose. 

The billionaire’s pupils were wide. Apparently Derek’s beard scratching affected Stiles in a _very_ good way. After a moment, Stiles found his voice. “Yes I _will_ ,” he uttered with determination. 

The sugar baby’s pants tightened just a  little. Stiles moved upwards, moving into a kiss-

Derek’s phone rang with Erica’s ringtone. Stiles sighed against Derek’s lips.

Erica was calling him. Derek frowned at the sound. It shouldn’t have been ringing. Erica had _just_ texted him.

Stiles sat back, blinking. “Erica,” Derek said quickly, and Stiles’s face went to concern. Derek answered the phone. “Erica?” he asked, hoping against reality that there wasn’t something wrong.

“I’m fine, Derek,” Erica told him breathlessly. All of his worries melted away, but Erica continued speaking. “You’ve got to come, Derek. _Now_. It’s Eileen.” 

 

***

 

“Do you want us to stay?” Stiles asked as Parrish drove up to the hotel. Much to his credit, Stiles looked sincerely worried. Derek frowned, thinking about it. “I mean, we can take her to a hospital if she needs it,” Stiles added. 

His reasoning was sound. Derek weighed bringing a stranger, a client, into such a clusterfuck. But then, if Eileen needed medical care, having a car for transport would save on any ambulance expenses. And if they needed to carry her anywhere, three strong bodies were better than two.

“Alright,” he said uncertainly. “I’m _trusting_ you. Both of you,” he added, looking at Parrish. Parrish nodded. “Come on, then,” he quickly opened the door and hurried to the entrance. Stiles fell in step right behind him. 

Derek’s heartbeat had stilled, an eerie calm washing over him. The lobby didn’t seem unusual. People were going about their pleasant days, checking in and out, eating in the hotel restaurant. Things seemed normal. Nobody knew about a potential emergency in one of the hotel rooms. 

Easily he climbed up the stairs, two by two. Stiles fell behind, so Derek called out, “Room 3015.” Stiles nodded and Derek continued climbing, pushing his body faster. 

As he turned the corner into the hallway, he expected his body to be shaking. He expected flashbacks and anxiety to overwhelm him. Instead he was met with a cool calm, a determination to get Eileen to safety. He passed 3013, which he knew to be Erica’s door. He knocked briefly; no answer. If she’d cancelled her next meeting, things were probably pretty bad. 

Cautiously he walked over to 3015, noting the door was a little bit ajar. He knocked first, hoping Erica would answer, but instead he could hear voices. 

“We agreed to this, Erica. Back away, or I walk out.” 

Derek opened the door, making it clear leaving was not an option. He tensed himself, ready for a fight. 

Kali turned to glare at him, knife in her hand. Erica crouched behind her, covering a very wounded body. A trip to the hospital would be needed after all, given the amount of blood on the floor. “We agreed to this. She’s supposed to make me feel _good,_ ” Kali continued, blatantly ignoring Derek. “And she did.” 

“It’s _rape_ ,” Erica sputtered. 

Kali kicked at her, holding a knife at Derek to keep him at bay. Derek growled when he noted another pointed at Eileen. “It’s not rape. Robbery, maybe, but I paid.” Kali turned to Derek. “Couldn’t even call the police, could you?” She smirked. “Nobody would believe it’s rape.” She turned back to Eileen. “Nobody will believe you, sweetheart. Women aren’t rapists. And if you didn’t want to be attacked, you shouldn’t have been in the business anyway.” 

“That’s enough,” Derek snapped, starting forward. He grabbed at Kali’s outstretched hand and gripped, forcing her to drop the knife. Kali swung her other arm at him, but Erica blocked it. 

“Call the police then, you little whores,” Kali breathed. “Nobody will believe you. You’ll only arrest yourselves.” She freed herself from Derek’s grip. “Or you know what, I’ll call them. You filthy little whores should be _ashamed_ of what you’re doing.” She looked at Erica. “She wouldn’t have gotten hurt if you’d just _kept_ me.” She admitted. 

Erica continued holding onto Kali’s wrist. 

“Derek, she’s got to get to the hospital,” Erica told him. “She’s lost consciousness.” Kali struggled with Erica for a moment, trying to use her nails to claw at Erica’s skin. 

Derek tightened his hold. “I’ll sue you for assault,” Kali shouted loudly. She took in a breath, probably ready to bellow. Derek knew how this would end up: People running in, a large man with three women, one raped and injured. He would be arrested for sure. 

“No you won’t, Kali,” came the cold reply. Kali froze. She may not have recognized Derek from the party, but she knew Stiles Stilinski well enough. Stiles came through the door, right behind Derek. “It won’t take much from me when we discuss how you, so in crazy love with me, attacked my boyfriend’s friends. The cops might put you away for a long time.” 

Kali let go of Erica’s wrist, pulling away from Derek. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she remarked. 

Stiles raised an eyebrow. “Probably not. I mean, this isn’t your first rodeo with the cops, is it?” 

Kali fell quiet. Derek stepped aside, checking Eileen over with Erica. There were scrapes and cuts all over her body, and blood pooling out between her thighs. Derek winced. Kali wouldn’t even be charged with rape in this jurisdiction. The most she _could_ be charged with was sexual assault. 

He hated how he knew that from experience.

“She whispered to tell me where the money was,” Erica murmured to him. “And she didn’t want the cops involved.” 

“We’ll think of a cover story to tell the hospital, then,” Derek whispered back. “She’s got to go. Fuck,” he thought, looking at the floor, “I’ll pay for the ambulance. She needs blood and _fast_.” 

Kali continued staring at Stiles. “You don’t have any proof of any prior convictions,” she stated. 

Stiles crossed his arms. “It’ll be a field day for the media when they note this is the _second_ girlfriend you’ve had in the hospital for cuts and blood loss,” Stiles replied. “Julia.” 

Kali slumped over then. “You don’t know anything about Julia,” she stated, but she was defeated. She knew she was. “You _couldn’t_.” 

Erica was dialing. “Hello?” She said softly. “I need an ambulance.” 

Derek stood, facing Kali. “You need to leave,” he demanded. Kali looked at him, then at Erica, and then at Stiles. She didn’t even bother looking at Eileen. Without a word, she grabbed her purse and left, leaving the knives on the floor.

“Erica,” Derek stated. Erica looked up at him sadly. “Erica,” he stated again, handing the phone to Stiles, who took over talking to the operator. “They’re going to send the police over, Erica. You’ve got to get out of here.” 

Erica looked hopelessly at Eileen. Even though he knew how badly she wanted to stay, she nodded, knowing her own safety was at risk. The cops around the city weren’t always kind. “Leave me your room key,” Derek informed her. “You got the room for Stiles and I, we saw the unlocked room and looked in, discovering the body.” She ran off, getting her stuff from the other room.

Stiles looked up from the phone. “Um, my boyfriend and I were, uh, in the next room. Or supposed to be. But the door was unlocked and we heard a scream.” Flawlessly he played along. “There’s a lot of blood. Knives.” He shot Derek a thumbs up as Derek continued to prepare _their_ cover story, so shaken that he wouldn’t be able to give Eileen one. He couldn’t even text her phone. The police would look through it.

Erica wordlessly came back, handing Derek the key and kissing him on the cheek. “See you at home,” she whispered.

“Don’t run,” Derek told her. “Take a taxi.” She nodded, reaching over to the drawer and taking Eileen’s money. She’d keep it safe. Without it at the scene, Eileen didn’t look so much like a sex worker to the EMTs.

 

***

 

With Eileen safely in the hospital, Stiles and Derek were left with the police. Stiles looked over at Derek for a moment before speaking, “Normally, I’d love to give you an official statement. But as I’ve learned, I need to speak with my lawyer first. My boyfriend and I won’t say anything without her present.” 

The officer frowned. “Sir, I want you to know that you’re interfering with police authority, here. I just want an account of why you were here. That’s all.” 

“Lawyer,” Stiles replied. “You can contact me through Miss Lydia Martin for my statement, officer.” He looked over at Derek. “And for my boyfriend, too.” 

The officer seemed wary. “I could have you arrested for interfering with a police investigation,” he stated calmly. It was a threat.

Stiles didn’t budge. Derek stood in awe, wondering how much of it came from being the sheriff’s son. He would have spoken, had implicated himself for being here if Stiles hadn’t refused testimony. “I’ll happily assist you, with my lawyer. End of story. I’ll contact your supervisor for a time to come in, okay?” he smiled sweetly. “Am I free to leave?”

The police officer grumbled. “Sure, but if you would answer a few more questions-“

“Am I free to go?” Stiles repeated coldly. His gaze impressed even Derek for its unmoving power. “Yes or no, officer.” 

The officer inhaled, looking at his superior. The superior shrugged. “It’s their right,” he replied. 

“Yes,” the officer told them, and Stiles grabbed Derek by the hand and lead him out the door. They continued for a while, finally reaching the elevator. 

Derek finally felt like he could relax. “Sheriff’s kid,” he joked, trying to ease some of the adrenaline flowing through his system. 

Stiles shot him a grin. “You bet,” he replied. “I know how these things work,” he added sadly. “She’ll be asked if she’s sure she was raped.” He shook his head. “It’s not fair,” he muttered to himself. “We won’t even get to know how it ends.” 

Derek shook his head, thinking about it. Eileen would probably never get justice. As soon as Eileen pointed out rape, Kali would undermine the argument with sex work. He stepped into the elevator with Stiles, sighing. “They never charged Kate with rape,” he admitted softly. 

Stiles straightened, his face serious and empathetic. There was a hint of pity, as well, but not the holier-than-thou kind that Derek always hated. It was empathy more than pity. Derek continued talking as the elevator lowered, the words coming out somehow easily knowing how Stiles felt about the situation. Stiles wasn’t like anyone else he’d met. “They charged her with kidnapping. With procuring a minor. With sexual exploitation of a minor. Of child pornography, and sexual abuse of a minor. But never rape.” He looked at his toes. 

The elevator doors opened, but Derek didn’t move. Stiles didn’t either. They stayed like that for a while, breathing until the elevator doors closed on them. 

“They asked me everything,” he continued. “They asked me if I was sure. If it really happened.” Derek paused. “Your father, he nearly took of the heads of the men who wrote the report. He demanded if they asked a murder victim if they were really murdered, if a person shot had really been shot.” He smiled at the memory. “He pulled all the punches he could, but ultimately, most of the stuff was left to the feds. Over state lines and all that.” He paused. “The man she’d left me to, he’d fucked me with a dildo and his dick. My ass collapsed on itself. It hurt. When I dragged myself to the hospital, the nurses had to call the police. And when my insurance popped up from California, that’s when the police started digging. That’s how I was found.” 

Derek breathed in, voice a little shaking. “Eileen will survive,” he continued. “Maybe she’ll keep working this job and maybe she won’t, but that’s for her to decide. She’s going to survive, and doing this doesn’t make her worse for it.” Something in his chest snapped. Maybe he wasn’t talking about Eileen, really. “She’ll learn new tricks and be really smart about it but she’s not _weak_. She’ll survive. She’ll move on somehow.”

Something wanted to spring out of his chest, something painful and too emotional. This wasn’t sugar babying. This wasn’t sex work. This was being open and honest in front of someone for the first time in _years_. 

Stiles’s hand touched his arm gently, reassuring him with the weight of another human’s touch. “You’re an incredible person, Derek,” he revealed, his voice nothing but soft and gentle as if Derek didn’t know. 

Derek didn’t know. 

But Stiles thought so, and Stiles had made billions, so maybe Stiles wasn’t wrong. Maybe he could believe Stiles. Stiles spoke again, a little more loudly. “You’re strong. Not just physically,” Stiles added quickly, “because I’m pretty sure you already know you could throw me across the room. But emotionally. You don’t take people’s shit, and you just keep going.” He squeezed Derek’s arm. “You’re the coolest person I know, Derek. I’m glad you’re my sugar baby.” 

Derek grabbed his arm and squeezed back. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will not be angsty. It will be fluffy and a little domestic. Theme: Sick Sugar Daddy Stiles.
> 
> Going to try and post the next chapter tomorrow, sticking to the MWF theme! Only four chapters left, guys! 
> 
> (Last but not least: Seriously, in the US, never talk to the police. Your being a witness can make you a suspect. Always involve a lawyer. Always.  
> Here’s a video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6wXkI4t7nuc ).


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 7 has changed drastically.

 

Erica was watching her werewolves show again when Derek came in with the groceries. “Again, Erica?” he asked, letting the door fall shut behind him. Erica shrugged and turned the volume on mute, watching Derek as he hauled several bags of groceries towards their kitchen. “I bought chicken,” he informed her. Erica sighed disappointedly and sat back down. 

“Of course you did,” she replied. Her hair was tied back; today looked like a personal day. “I went to see Eileen.” Her voice sounded soft and wounded.

Worriedly Derek glanced in her direction, putting his bags down on the counter. Erica turned to watch him, continuing to talk as he put his groceries away. “She’s going to make a full recovery. The police came in to ask her questions, but she’s kept quiet about what happened.” 

Wise decision, Derek thought as he put away the eggs. “Did you manage to give her back her money?” he asked. 

“Totally did. She nearly cried. It’s not enough to cover her hospital stay, but…” Erica trailed off. “But it’s with her,” she added. Derek nodded. His phone buzzed in his pocket, most likely Stiles about their date today. Instead of answering, he continued to put groceries away, looking back at Erica. She continued. “It’s shaken me up a little, you know?” 

Derek nodded, thinking back to what Kali said. “You aren’t to blame, Erica,” he reminded her gently, shutting the fridge.

Erica waved her hand, dismissing his words. “I know that. Totally and completely,” she assured him. “What gets me is that it would have been _me_ if I hadn’t passed her on. Like, I’m glad I listened to my gut, but at first she seemed really harmless.” Erica paused for a moment. “It makes me wonder if any of the guys I’m seeing now are that way.” 

It was a sensation Derek was all too familiar with. He’d cut out a couple of his clients in the past week for that very reason. Better safe than sorry. “I feel the same,” he offered. 

Erica shrugged, both of them knowing there wasn’t much they could do about it. She sighed and slumped back to watch her show. Using this break in the conversation, Derek checked his phone. 

**Message From: Stiles**

I hate to say this, but I’m really sick. You should stay away today; I don’t want you getting sick too.

Enjoy your day, today, baby!

**End Message**

Derek smiled at the term of endearment, noting how light and fluffy it seemed to make his heart. He could practically picture Stiles in bed, hands over the keyboard and still continuing to program as best he could, sneezing and coughing in his bed. 

He sent a message, a simple “okay”, and turned back to the fridge, pulling out the chicken he’d bought earlier. “Do you still have Parrishs’s number?” he asked her. 

Erica looked up at him. “Of course,” she answered, pulling out her phone. “Why?” 

He pulled out the phone, texting one simple message, one he knew that would change this relationship, for better or for worse. 

**Message To: Stiles**

Can I visit you anyway?

**Message Sent**

 

***

 

Derek felt like a hypocrite. He was a big, fat hypocrite and none of that mattered right now because Stiles was sick. Stiles hadn’t said no, exactly, but he hadn’t said yes, either. Parrish seemed pleased at the idea- he admitted it would make Stiles happy. And Derek wanted to make Stiles happy, to cheer him up, and it was only in the car that he realized how hypocritical he was being. 

“Don’t worry,” Parrish chirped at Derek in the car. “He’s got five other apartments.” 

It didn’t make Derek feel any less of a hypocrite.

Parrish opened the door to the car, leading Derek up the elevator. When the doors opened, he handed the sugar baby his business card in case anything went wrong. “The door will lock behind you when you leave,” and left Derek in the entryway of Stiles’s penthouse apartment, pushing Derek in and closing the door behind him.

“Parrish, I told you to stop worrying,” a raspy voice called out. Derek clutched his bag a little tighter.

What was he doing? He was an idiot for doing this. For someone so concerned about his privacy Derek certainly didn’t seem to care when it came to Stiles’s privacy. Swallowing he opened his mouth, closing it as something shuffled from the other room. 

It was a spacious apartment. Where Derek’s was brick and industrial, this was clean and light. Mirrors reflected light even into the hallway. Derek took a couple of steps, noting huge floor to ceiling windows in an open living area.

“Stiles?” he called out. 

Something crashed to his right. Derek dumped his bag on a table in the kitchen, and sped towards the sound of the crash. “Stiles?” he called again, heading towards the right. 

Another crash. Derek continued walking along the windowed hallway, reaching a door. “Stiles? Parrish let me in.” He knocked and something whimpered behind it. Derek twisted the doorknob, slowly opening the door. 

A bundle of sheets were wrapped up on the floor, Stiles twisting helplessly underneath them. The billionaire struggled uselessly, body pale and sickly. Stiles was probably too weak to get out of them. As Derek stepped into the room Stiles huddled in on himself. “Don’t look,” Stiles pleaded.

“Why not?” Derek asked, stepping closer. He knelt down next to Stiles. “I came by to help you recover.” 

Stiles breathed in, a raspy, rattling sound. When he exhaled, his body seemed to relax. 

His words, however, were both sharp and scolding. “You’re never to give me shit about looking you up again,” he chided, his eyes closed. “Parrish,” he added, putting things together.  “I’m going to have words with him.” All in all, Stiles didn’t seem too angry. When Stiles leaned up and placed his forehead on Derek’s chin, the sugar baby knew his true feelings.

Derek smiled. Stiles wasn’t really angry with him, more tired and exhausted than anything. “I know,” Derek apologized. “I’m sorry. Just wanted you to feel better, that’s all. I did send a text.” 

“Phone died,” Stiles said, shivering. One solitary eye opened, gazing up at Derek’s form. “I’d feel better if you could untangle me,” he added sheepishly. “‘M not very strong right now.” 

Carefully Derek unwrapped Stiles from the bundle of messes he’d made of his sheets, noting how little Stiles had worn to bed. Stiles shivered in the cool air, and Derek helped him sit upright in the bed. “Have you eaten?” Derek asked, sitting down next to Stiles. The bed gave way under his weight, soft and cushy. 

“Not that hungry,” Stiles reported. “Been sick for a couple of days,” he admitted, leaning back onto the mattress. His pale throat lay exposed to the air, his chest-

Suddenly Derek realized he’d never seen Stiles quite this nude before. Stiles was shirtless and pantless, but the pale tone of his skin detracted away from any lustful feelings for the evening. He grabbed onto Stiles’s hand, squeezing it, feeling the heat radiating off of it. “Shower?” he asked. 

“Not for a while,” Stiles murmured. “Still too weak.” He closed his eyes, sighing. “You should bathe me,” he joked. 

Derek shrugged. “If you want,” he answered honestly. “But only because you’re sick.” 

The body before him tensed just a little, trying to weigh the sudden rush of desire versus the spent energy of illness. Illness won out. Derek sighed. “Where are your clothes?” he asked, looking around at the room for the closet.

“Past the shower,” Stiles muttered. “Blanket’s in there, too.” He squeezed Derek’s hand. “What do you have planned for a date, then? Wipe away my vomit? Breathe in my germs?” His hand fell back to the bed. 

It was strange, Derek thought. This wasn’t a date at all. “Feed you soup,” Derek replied. “We could watch TV. I just… I know how it is, being sick on your own.” Gingerly he felt Stiles’s forehead. Warm.s

Stiles raised an eyebrow, sitting upright on his elbows. “Is that a sugar baby thing?” he asked softly. His face was confused. Swallowing, Derek shook his head. 

Somehow Stiles always honed in on things Derek wanted to keep hidden. 

“We’re still rescheduling the date,” Derek informed Stiles, helping the billionaire sit up on the bed. “Today is just a Derek thing.” He pulled a blanket to the bed, wrapping it around Stiles’s shivering form. Stiles smiled softly into the blanket, understanding. Derek’s chest felt tight all of the sudden. 

Only a fool would have fallen in love with his client. Shit. When had this happened? Stiles now had all the power. The moment Stiles dropped Derek as a sugar baby, Derek would be reduced to pain and frustration. Yet Derek didn’t care about that right now. The euphoria now, the way his chest tightened at Stiles’s grateful look made this all worth the risk of the futures. 

“Thank you,” Stiles murmured softly, rubbing his cheek against the soft blanket. Derek hurried to the closet, picking out clothes that looked _warm_. He threw them onto the bed as soon as he stepped out of the shower rooms. 

“I’m going to go warm up the soup,” he stated. “You get dressed and out in front of the TV. We’ll eat there.” He paused at the doorway, looking back at Stiles. 

Stiles merely smiled at him, more like a cat this time. “You should carry me,” he whined, eyes batting in flirtation.

Derek frowned. 

“I’m going to heat up the soup,” he continued, ignoring Stiles’s frown and sputters of protest behind him. 

 

***

 

When the soup had finished reheating, Derek looked around the open area. Stiles had yet to come out of his bedroom. Sighing, Derek poured the soup into two bowls he’d found in a cupboard sand set them on the TV coffee table before walking back to Stiles’s bedroom. 

The billionaire was breathing lightly on the bed, dressed but sleeping. Derek shook his head and easily picked up Stiles, carrying him bridal style to the living area of his apartment. 

“Thanks, Derek,” Stiles murmured into his chest. “You’re the best.” He nuzzled closer to Derek’s chest while in Derek’s arms. The sugar baby deposited him on the sofa, tucking the blanket around him so Stiles could still keep warm. Derek smirked as Stiles struggled a bit, his arms clearly contained. “Uh, Derek? Small problem here?” 

Derek swung himself over the sofa, sitting next to Stiles. “Nope. It’ll keep you from tapping on the table,” he said sweetly. Stiles frowned, struggling a little more. Smiling, Derek reached for Stiles’s bowl and picked it up, taking a spoonful and blowing on it. Stiles’s eyes went wide as he realized Derek was pressing the spoon against his mouth. He opened his lips automatically and closed them again around the spoon, almost sucking the broth out. 

When Stiles swallowed, he looked like the cat that had the cream. “Your ears are red,” he observed. 

Derek nearly dropped the spoon. “It’s not supposed to be sexy when you’re sick,” he scolded, and Stiles shrugged, continuing to make obscene oral sex faces at the soup. 

“It’s just that good,” he joked. The little bastard probably enjoyed making Derek blush.

They continued the feeding until about halfway through the bowl. Stiles frowned. “I don’t think I can take any more,” he muttered, falling against Derek’s shoulder. Derek barely got the soup bowl out of the way in time, setting it down. “We should watch movies now.” 

Grabbing the remote, Derek leaned back into the sofa, one hand wrapping around Stiles’s form, pulling him closer. “Alright. What do you want to watch?” he asked.

Stiles frowned. “Doesn’t matter. Gunna fall asleep here, probably,” Stiles answered, yawning.

Halfway through the avengers, Derek noted Stiles’s breath puffing against his arm. He squeezed Stiles a little tighter. This was exactly what he wanted to be. He wanted to give Stiles someone to trust, someone who would take care of him, getting him out of meetings, listening to his panic, pulling him back when he got too involved. Derek wanted to stay by his side, Stiles’s sugar baby or not. 

Derek’s business plan was ruined, Derek knew, but it didn’t feel so bad when it unfolded like this. 

 

***

 

Stiles woke up a little later, looking around blankly for a while. “Derek?” he murmured. 

Derek moved his arm a little, trying to get feeling back into it. “Right here,” Derek told him. He hadn’t moved the entire time Stiles had slept. “You were out for about an hour.” 

Stiles adjusted himself a little, snuggling closer into Derek. The sugar baby smiled at the warmth now encasing his entire side, toasty and enticing. “You managed to free your hands,” Derek pointed out. 

Smiling up at him, Stiles reached out and pulled the blankets up around him. “This is nice,” he murmured, eyes closing. Silently Derek agreed; there was something nice about waking up next to Stiles. Something about his naivety to the whole sugaring situation made Derek… unguarded. Trusting. 

Derek liked the feeling. His heart swelled as Stiles shuffled around, taking in his surroundings. Moments like these were hard to come by, and they didn’t feel like _work_ at all. 

Stiles hummed softly. “Sorry to make you come all this way to do nothing,” he uttered, but closed his eyes. “It’s nice of you, you creepy stalker.” The sugar baby’s hands found their way to Stiles’s hair, massaging his scalp. 

“I don’t mind,” Derek told him honestly. Stiles winced at the tone, too soft, too fond. Derek frowned; Stiles must have known something was up. This wasn’t stuff sugar babies did; this was stuff Derek Hale did. This was terrible business practice, getting this close to a client, this emotional to a daddy. 

His daddy’s face looked like he was weighing the question, but Derek realized he must have mistaken the topic on Stiles’s mind when  the sugar baby heard Stiles’s question. “Want to go with me to Chicago next week?” 

Next week was no good. Derek had a schedule. He had regulars and clients planned. He’d be making a lot of people he depended on angry if he went any time next week. 

On the other hand, he didn’t want to miss any more of Stiles. Somehow the man had gotten under his skin. He wanted to watch Stiles in a new environment, help Stiles put on his suit, fit into an airplane, watch Stiles as he slept… 

“I’d love to.” The words came too easily. Shit. His business brain started freaking out but he couldn’t be bothered to listen. “Two rooms, though? I need a place of my own.” It was security. It was safety. 

Derek really didn’t plan to be in his room that much in Chicago anyway.

Stiles nodded. “And… uh, could we…” Stiles blushed. “We’ve never really talked about it, but, uh, we did lead up to it once, if we hadn’t…”

Given Stiles’s aversion to the topic, Derek knew exactly what Stiles was referencing. “I’d like that a lot,” he assured Stiles, fingers digging just a little bit less into his scalp,  gently stroking Stiles’s hair. “Any particular kinks I should know about?” 

Stiles swallowed, looking away. “Um, I don’t… I don’t…” He looked panicky, afraid. 

Derek could sympathize. Being a billionaire, society seemed to expect Stiles to be sleeping around with a lot of different people and to have all the experience that came with it. But given how Stiles would hesitate every so often, or give romantic gestures (the yacht, he supposed, might have been one of them had the night not gone poorly), Derek assumed sex was… something meaningful to Stiles. And it could be, Derek knew, if there was trust and a connection. 

He’d like to show Stiles how wonderful sex could be. He wanted Stiles pressed underneath him, learning all the tells of his body, showing Stiles all of his tricks. “For example,” Derek continued, “I’ve got a kink for priests.” He smiled as Stiles frowned and looked up at him. “And praise,” he added. “When someone praises me, it gets me going.” He glanced downward; Stiles focused in on every word he said, probably trying to study and be studious. “Also,” Derek murmured, “Innocent young virgins.” 

Stiles flushed bright red, looking away from Derek, putting the blankets up over his head. “Do you get many of those,” Stiles asked, “uh, in the other business you do?” 

Derek raised an eyebrow. “You found my website, didn’t you,” he said flatly. 

Stiles bolted upright, horror-stricken. “No, no, Derek,” Stiles pleaded, “Only when I found out stuff the first time, I swear-“ he crawled out of his blanket cocoon, desperately trying to appease Derek, to assure him that he hadn’t gone looking for Derek’s website. “I didn’t care, Derek, I don’t, I didn’t go looking for your things-“

Derek pressed a quick, light kiss on Stiles’s lips to calm him down. Stiles continued breathing heavily, the sickness and stress exhausting him. “I believe you,” he whispered back. “Shh. I’m not angry.” 

“I’m so sorry,” Stiles continued. “I know I fuck everything up, I’m not good with relationships, I’m not suave, I couldn’t even get Lydia to-“

“You got me,” Derek uttered, holding Stiles tight. The fever was still warm; Stiles’s brain must have been a little scrambled. “Stiles. You even convinced me to talk to my family again.” Derek hoped the non-monetary things would calm Stiles down. “You make me smile. You’ve made my life a light brighter, Stiles. I wouldn’t come to take care of sickness for just anyone, you know.” 

Stiles stopped squirming, just breathing as he tried to calm down. “Know,” he muttered, calming down just a little.

“Do you want some more juice?” Derek asked. 

Stiles nodded. “Guess I’m still tired,” he joked weakly. Derek patted him on the head, getting up. When he handed Stiles the juice, Stiles looked him over. “Derek?” he asked.

“Yeah?” 

“Stay?” the request was weak and kittenish, but Derek felt the strength in Stiles’s gaze grow as Derek nodded. 

“I’d love to.” He looked around. “But you- to bed with you, sickness.” He picked Stiles up and Stiles held tightly to his juice, head falling onto Derek’s chest.

As he tucked Stiles in, setting the juice on the bedside table, he heard a soft murmur.

“Gunna be the best innocent virgin you ever had,” Stiles breathed, falling into sleep. 

Derek didn’t doubt it for a moment.

 

***

 

Derek awoke later on the sofa to the sound of soft yet quick typing. Groggily he sat up on the sofa. Stiles typed away in the opposite chair, looking him over. “Yeah, so sorry. I don’t have the whole upper body strength to drag you into bed,” he quipped. His voice sounded better. He looked better. “My fever broke, by the way. Though you might be sick now, so… sorry.” Stiles shrugged helplessly. 

Derek frowned as his eyes adjusted to the light. “What time is it?” he asked. 

“Next morning,” Stiles told him, shutting his computer down. “So… make up date?” 

Derek nodded, groaning into the sofa cushion. “When’s Chicago again?” 

Stiles smirked. “Next week. I’ve already sent you the information. Do you want a window seat or an aisle seat?” he asked, clicking away on the computer. 

Derek shrugged, looking at the dawn light coming into the window. He didn’t have any meetings until tonight, so the time wasn’t too important. “Doesn’t matter,” he stated honestly. “Don’t really like flying, but I don’t have a seat preference.” He thought about it, looking as Stiles typed away. “By you,” he decided. 

Stiles flushed a little, looking back at the computer. “You always flirt this much?” he asked, then shook his head. “Of course you do,” Stiles told himself. 

Derek smirked, thinking about it. He flirted occasionally with his other clients. Usually they were taken aback by his appearance and a couple of batted eyelashes. He praised, he encouraged, he said sweet saccharine words of manipulation but he never flirted. Not quite like this, how honest he was feeling. It didn’t feel like _flirting_. It felt like raw truth being scraped out of him, startling him with how commonplace and solid if felt. 

Stiles watched him from the corner of his eye and Derek closed his, feeling in this moment something so solid and unshakable it scared him. Things were so domestic. He wanted to stay like this; to wake up with Stiles working over him, to fix Stiles dinners and feed him like he had earlier. The power was shifting, escaping. It was no longer Stiles wanting to please Derek. Derek wanted to please Stiles, to make him happy, to give him favors. 

“You look terrified,” Stiles murmured, coming over and sitting next to Derek’s head. He patted Derek’s hair, laptop setting on the desk next to him. He continued to smooth Derek’s hair over, openly concerned. And Derek knew he had power over Stiles, and Stiles had power over Derek, and what a fine mess he’d brought upon himself. 

Was this… was this what love was supposed to be, Derek wondered. Love was an exchange between two people, both of them holding some form of power over the other, both of them weak and helpless, wanting to please, wanting to care for another person? 

“I’m terrified,” Derek breathed, his hand reaching to hold Stiles’s hand. Stiles didn’t say anything, a diamond in the rough, a sugar daddy that had grown without money and too young into it to be much affected by the power of it yet. 

Stiles scooped Derek up into his lap, smelling like sick and sweat and salt. Derek kept his eyes squeezed shut, feeling the concern in Stiles’s touch as Stiles smoothed him over, trying to embrace him as best he could. “Why are you terrified?” Stiles asked, his voice gentle. “Of me?” 

It took Derek minutes to bare his soul. “Not of you,” he uttered finally, opening his eyes to stare into Stiles’s wide and open ones. “Of what I’d do for you,” he breathed. 

Brightly Stiles smiled at that. There was no doubt in Derek’s mind that his feelings were returned. Stiles leaned down and kissed him, leading just a little bit, their mouths all wrong and their tongues dancing, Derek biting bits of Stiles’s upper lip. The kiss was gentle, kind, understanding- Stiles knew. Stiles knew and that knowledge was dangerous and could blow up in Derek’s face and yet kissing Stiles felt like the best thing Derek had ever done in the world.

There wasn’t anything left to be afraid of. His mind seemed calm and his chest grounded him, endorphins rushing through his body. They parted and Derek breathed deeply, looking up at Stiles’s smiling eyes. 

“Come pick me up at my apartment?” Derek pleaded softly. Stiles startled for a moment, knowing how preciously Derek guarded his information, but then smiled back at him and kissed him again. 

Yes. Stiles would pick him up. 

Derek kissed him back, distracting himself from the alarms blaring about the danger of love in his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for this delay. It's taken me quite a while for reliable internet; I'm back in China and in a rural city, and the internet goes in and out (and my VPN is nonexistent). 
> 
> With that said, it's still a really long time for an update, and I apologize for making all of you wait. I have no intentions of abandoning or not finishing this story.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys it's an update! And a sex scene!

The luggage waited obediently on the couch as it had for the previous 24 hours. Derek had packed and re-packed during the last couple of days, debating on taking creams and shavers and anything he might need to look good. Nervously he looked at his reflection in the mirror. He knew he looked good, but this felt different than normal, lacking his self-confidence. Would _Stiles_ think he looked good? Would Stiles see him, flush, know that all of Derek _existed_ for Stiles, so that he might be proud to see him in public, would he-

Derek groaned, setting his head against the mirror. Of course Stiles would flush as he saw Derek. Stiles _always_ flushed. But some part of Derek wanted to be doubly sure, to watch as he impressed Stiles over and over. 

He knew what it meant, even if he didn’t want to admit it to himself.

“You’ve got it bad, huh?” Erica commented, her heels clicking on the step as she came down into the living room. “ _Jesus_ , Derek. This is specifically what you warned me about.” She checked her makeup in the mirror, looking flawless as she always did before work.

The older sugar baby opened his mouth to argue, but he closed it just as quickly, trying to think of something not defensive to say. “I know,” he finally settled on. “I even cancelled a bunch of regular clients, Erica. I don’t- I can claim it’s school, but it’s such bad business practices and…” he trailed off, trying to breathe. 

It was bad business. It was terrible business, and he was being stupid and somehow Derek couldn’t care.

Erica reached out to his shoulder. “I said this about Boyd,” she remembered, and pulled Derek away from the hallway mirror, forcing him to sit next to the suitcases. “What did you tell me?” 

Derek inhaled, remembering his advice. “Go. Have fun, and get it out of your system.” 

“And if it doesn’t get out of my system?” she asked, her voice almost still the same tone it had been all those years ago, when Derek had taken her under his wing, teaching her how to be a free agent, how to get away from her money-grubbing pimp and survive on her own. He could almost see her in the mirror where she’d stood in their tiny shared apartment, experimenting with different make-up looks and tones and techniques.

He tried to find the words he’d said then, but his mouth came up dry and empty. 

Erica smiled for him, her make up solid, her look experienced, and patted his knee. “Then don’t worry about it.” Her voice was deep, mimicking his. “Just don’t let it ruin your business.” She patted his knee. “He’s not the kind of guy who would ruin you, or blackmail you, or hold it against you,” she assured Derek gently. “He even agreed to you having clients, remember? Your first meeting?” 

Derek nodded. He’d forgotten.

Erica’s hand stayed on his knee. “He’ll come pick you up. He’ll fawn over the house and he’ll take a look at your weights and he’ll love it all because it’s about you.” She smiled at him.

Derek smiled back, soft and unsure.

 

***

 

Erica couldn’t have been more right. Stiles fawned over the apartment, coming in and investigating everything. He looked over the kitchen, smirking as he spotted Derek’s soup containers. He touched the weight set he bought Derek, still shiny and clean. “Hardly using it, huh?” he teased, and Derek raised an eyebrow, watching Stiles infiltrate his space. 

Stiles moved into Derek’s room without asking, but Derek had hidden everything he didn’t want Stiles to see up in Erica’s room, so he wasn’t too concerned. When Stiles didn’t come out after a couple of minutes he peeked in only to find Stiles rolling around on the bed. “Aw man,” he complained. “This is nicer than what I have.” He opened an eye, scratching his stomach as Derek came and sat down on the bed. 

He liked seeing Stiles like this. Something about it made his blood tingle. He wanted to pin Stiles to the bed and never let him go, and Stiles would have let him.

Just as he was about to push Stiles onto the bed for a kiss, the sugar daddy sat up, flailing into the bathroom. “Aw, this! This is where the magic happens!” He looked over all of Derek’s products. To the untrained eye it looked as if Stiles was just counting bottles, but Derek knew Stiles was memorizing them all, keeping record of what Derek used to surprise him with it later. 

Probably in many, many packages. 

“Come out to the balcony,” Derek suggested. “It’s my favorite place.” 

Stiles nearly tripped over himself in excitement, eagerly following Derek like a lost puppy. “You wanna know my favorite place?” he asked as Derek led him through the living area. “All of this. All of this is my favorite place. It’s so warm and lived-in, like-“

Derek cut him off with a quick kiss. As he pulled back, Stiles’s face silly and loopy with content, Derek added, “You’re the only one I’ve ever allowed to visit.” 

The nice thing about Stiles’s brain is that he _understood_. He swallowed, the seriousness overcoming his content. But the words didn’t come, so he looked over at the city. “The view is incredible, Derek,” he breathed, taken in awe. 

The words were unspoken, but Derek felt them anyway. _Thank you for trusting me_. 

When Stiles leaned over the edge to get a better view, Derek touched his hand gently. “We have a plane to catch,” he announced, and couldn’t help the grin on his face as Stiles attempted to take all of Derek’s suitcases by himself, tripping and fumbling out the door. 

 

***

 

Stiles didn’t bat an eye at weight and amount of Derek’s luggage as the sugar baby loaded the cases onto the scale at the counter.  First class meant they could afford an extra bag or three; Derek’s muscles meant he didn’t mind lifting them. If anything, he offered to lift Stiles’s things as well and Stiles let him while not subtly checking out Derek’s muscles as he lifted the bags onto the scale. (Stiles had given up on carrying Derek’s bags once they got down the stairs, so maybe it was jealousy as much as it was inspired).

Glad he’d chosen a tight shirt, Derek made sure to flex just a little more than necessary as he lifted Stiles’s bags, keenly aware of Stiles’s heated gaze on him. “You’re going to get stopped at security,” Stiles scolded. “You’re like a living weapon.” 

The ticket agent’s eyes looked sharply in their direction and Stiles flailed around, trying to think of something else he could have said. “Don’t mind him,” Derek said, hand going around Stiles’s mouth. “He gets nervous when he flies.” He shot the woman a grin. “Loses his brain to mouth filter.” 

Again, his grin worked magic. The agent stood gaping like a fish. Probably, she had just realized how _pretty_ Derek looked. After a couple of seconds she jolted herself out of her stare, face red, and handed them the tickets without another word. She’d even forgotten to charge them for the extra suitcases, hurrying the two of them along. 

Though Derek filed the encounter away as a success, Stiles glared at him. “Are you going to flirt with everyone in this airport?” he asked, tone sharp. Ah. Jealous and insecure. Derek thought they might be past that stage, but maybe it was something to do with the lady, or maybe it was something to do with flirting in order to get something out of it.

Hoping to pacify Stiles by teasing, Derek handed Stiles the tickets. “Of course, _Daddy_ ,” he emphasized. “Gotta be a bad boy, don’t I?” 

Stiles ignored Derek’s flirting, but wasn’t meeting his eyes guiltily- the joke was a success. “Bad boys get punished, you know.” Then he looked up, with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Unless that’s what you were hoping for?” 

Derek raised an eyebrow, but his lips had fallen into a grin. “Maybe,” he allowed, and Stiles also broke into a grin, probably picturing all the things they might do on this trip. The billionaire leaned up next to Derek as they walked through the speedy TSA approved line, placing their carry-ons on the conveyor belt. Stiles walked through first and turned around, winking at Derek- a show more for his sugar baby than for the sake of being analyzed. 

“Next,” the TSA agent announced, before Derek met his eyes. An older client of his, he remembered. There was no animosity towards each other- they’d merely drifted apart for whatever reason. Still, Derek didn’t want to be outed here, even if Stiles knew what Derek did. The other TSA agents didn’t, and if something happened, Stiles would be dragged into the middle of it.

Cautiously, Derek walked through the metal detector. Nothing beeped- Derek was good. He waited as a hand was held up. The TSA agent looked him over before motioning to come closer, patting him down just a little. Derek smirked as the man patted him down a couple seconds too long, hands resting on his ass a little longer than necessary. He put on his best innocent look. “Anything wrong, sir?”

Stiles waited by their bags, watching him nervously. Derek shot him a reassuring smile, which only seemed to make the agent pale. “No.You’re free to go,” the agent allowed. Derek gave him a wink and a wave, moving over to the tray to recollect their things. Stiles seemed pouty, his mood dark after the agent’s touch. “You shouldn’t be harassed like that,” he muttered. 

Derek leaned over and placed his free hand over Stiles’s waist, drawing the billionaire closer to him. Even though Stiles glared at him, he did relax at Derek’s touch, his anger just a tad lessened by the action. Quickly Derek leaned into Stiles’s ear, pressing him a quick kiss against the skin. “Old client,” Derek explained. “But you’re welcome to touch me where ever you want.” 

He expected Stiles to flush, or to push away, embarrassed. Instead, Stiles looked like the cat that got the cream and Derek could practically hear the “challenge accepted” announced overhead. Sneakily, Stiles slipped a hand into the back pocket of Derek’s jeans. The affection pleasantly surprised Derek, and he had to hold back a laugh.

Good. This was good. Noting Derek’s reaction, Stiles gave a little squeeze. Derek realized they were still in plain sight of the guard- Stiles felt more than a little possessive. The realization was somehow warm in Derek’s chest, but Stiles pulled out of his pocket too quickly for Derek to identify why. 

So Derek opted to ignore it. “Where to?” Derek asked, offering his arm. 

Greedily Stiles wrapped his own arm around it, smiling up at the man and walking with a little bit of saunter in his step, as if proud that he had Derek all to himself. He’d probably learned such saunters from watching Derek, and Derek made note to watch Stiles do it when he was directly behind the other man. “To our gate,” Stiles announced boldly, and Derek led him obediently to the gate. 

The touching never stopped, not even as they waited for the plane. 

 

 

***

 

Stiles sat next to him on the plane, pressed against the window. “You mind if we just have a lazy night?” Stiles inquired. “Movies or something?” They’d just received the electronics allowed light but Stiles seemed more interested in Derek than any of the electronic gadgets the billionaire had brought with him. Derek felt secretly pleased with this knowledge, allowing himself just a little bit of posture readjustment to express it. Sighing dramatically, Stiles went into a stretch that ended with Stiles’s foot reaching out to rub against Derek’s shin.

Not subtle at all.

“Or something,” he implied, his foot returning the gesture and touching Stiles’s ankle. He had to hand it to Stiles; this time there was only the slightest bit of redness on Stiles’s cheeks- very little embarrassment. But Stiles’s breath gave him away as it was coming quicker, and his eyes were wider. Stiles licked his lips, fingers twitching against the armrests, body thrumming with Derek’s promise. 

They were both on the same page about what would happen on this trip, it seemed.

Derek leaned over in Stiles’s ear. “That okay?” he asked, heat pulsing in his gut. Stiles appeared to be genuinely interested in their flirtation in public today and Derek had never had this much fun riling up someone. Normally his job didn’t involved much foreplay outside the bedroom, winding someone up with promises and touches like this. 

It was fun and addicting. He’d never been this excited over someone before, never this wound up. He’d been picturing Stiles, wondering what sounds Stiles would make in bed, what he would look like-

This wasn’t professional. It was _personal_. He longed for those shared, fleeting kisses- sometimes long, sometimes sloppy, sometimes quick and chaste. He _wanted_ more, some connection with Stiles, knowing he could see the billionaire intimately, watching as he led Stiles to bliss and watched him fall apart.

A mouth pressed against his cheek quickly- a hasty, chaste kiss, breaking Derek out of his thoughts. “Totally okay,” Stiles assured him, eyes twinkling flirtatiously. His breath traced over Derek’s cheek, a gentle cress, a tempting preview of what was to come. This… 

This wasn’t work, Derek knew, as a grin spread over his face. It was better. 

Stiles smiled back at him, both of them two grinning idiots in their own little world. Stiles pushed Derek’s face away. “Behave,” Stiles chided. “We’re in a public space.’

Derek shot him an even wider grin, shifting his hips in the first-class seat. Stiles rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t hide his own smugness, sitting back. Derek wanted to kiss Stiles despite being in pubic, to mark him and bruise him up so every knew who Stiles belonged to. Being in a public space just made him a little hotter. 

But Stiles was right, Derek knew deep down. This was not the place or the time. So Derek sat next to Stiles obediently, anticipation thrumming under his skin, heart pounding louder in his ears than the jet engines.

 

***

 

They separated once at the hotel lobby, Stiles handing Derek his card key. Derek took it with a smile, noting they were next door to each other. “Feel free to come get me,” Derek announced, though he said it as if it would be a great bother. 

The billionaire paid his tone no mind, sliding his hand to Derek’s wrist. “Oh, I plan to,” Stiles assured Derek, something hungry in his gaze. And then he promptly left Derek with the bellhop, checking into whatever conference he was there for.

But Stiles had given Derek time to allow Derek to settle into the room, so he didn’t mind being alone for a couple of hours. Derek quickly unpacked, hanging up clothes and getting his luggage out of sight. The room was spacious, with his own little living area in the front, but Derek mostly remained in the bedroom, placing away little things like lube and condoms in the side drawer. 

The bed seemed comfy enough, he noted, comparing it to the hotel he normally worked from. It was far more elegant; Stiles hadn’t been frugal about it, that was for sure. There were even roses waiting for him on the table in the living area, with a note that simply read, “From Stiles”. He found himself fingering the petals, a stupid grin on his face. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this happy.

A loud knock broke Derek out of his reverie. Excitement building in his veins, Derek attempted to smoothly walk over to the door, trying to ignore the lust heating his gut. It was a good thing Stiles couldn’t see how eager Derek felt right now. He might lose all his credibility as a big tough guy.

Pulling the door open with a big smile, he welcomed Stiles into room. “So? Up to your expectations?” Stiles asked, eyes still bright and eager to please.

Years of habit forced Derek to tamper down on his own pleased face, letting Stiles think it was passable. “Maybe,” Derek allowed. “There’s a surprising lack of company here.”  

Stiles gave a sheepish grin. “About that,” he admitted. “I’m totally sorry, but I’ve got to bail on dinner- one of the guys wants to ‘get to know us’.” His face drew in a pout, but Derek could tell Stiles was really upset underneath; they’d planned dinner together and everything for this night.

“It’s fine,” Derek allowed. “I can get my workout done while you’re gone.” 

Stiles nodded. “I’ll be sure to schedule something extra fun for you, then, while I’m gone tomorrow. A massage or something.” And given his history, Stiles would probably schedule every massage in the place, just so Derek could choose which one he wanted.

While it did bother Derek just a little to know that Stiles wouldn’t be there, he also knew it was Stiles’s job. Derek wasn’t going to be the sort of dick that interfered with someone else’s job. So he shrugged, trying to hide his hurt.

“How’s the bed?” Stiles asked, eyes peeping into the other room. He was still far too courteous to wander in without permission.

Derek responded by walking in, sitting down, and patting the space next to him. “Soft. Padded. A lot like-“

That’s when Stiles dove in for the kiss. Derek couldn’t say it was unwelcome because he’d wanted it since Stiles had been in his apartment earlier this morning. But it did surprise him, taking away his breath and stirring up his cock. Derek _liked_ Stiles taking the lead.

They kissed hungrily, mouths open and sloppy. Stiles clung to Derek’s form above him, crotch pressing delightfully against Derek’s abs. Derek didn’t mind the hands in his hair or the fact that his own hands were pinned down by Stiles’s knees, drunk on Stiles’s quick-learning tongue, feeding and teasing, his jaw happily moving along Derek’s, a combination of slick and pressure, a promise of what was to come. For a moment, Stiles pulled away to breathe, lips swollen and shiny. Frustrated at the lack of Stiles in his mouth and his inability to move, Derek contented himself by placing kisses along Stiles’s shoulder, knowing he shouldn’t leave a mark to be seen by-

“Mark me,” Stiles breathed into his hair, hands pressing, forcing, Derek’s head against his bared neck. The sugar baby licked a stripe up the skin, tasting sweat and Stiles, but he didn’t mark. Too many people wanted to be marked in the heat of the moment only to regret the idea afterwards. 

“Derek,” Stiles pleaded, voice sliding higher oh so delightfully, “Derek.”

Derek felt crazy now, kissing along Stiles’s collarbone, halfway licking and sucking up his chin into his mouth. “Hmm?” he hummed before capturing Stiles’s lips again. He pulled away with a bite on Stiles’s bottom lip, eyes staring straight into Stiles’s half-crazed ones. “What do you want, Stiles?” 

He watched the way Stiles wilted; closing his eyes, body shifting away from Derek. Quickly he regained control of his hands, sliding them up to Stiles’s back. “What’s wrong?” he asked with a kiss to Stiles’s chest, letting Stiles sit back a little, cradling him in his arms. 

To be completely honest, Derek had been expecting the answer. In fact, Derek had pretty much guessed the answer from their first interaction. But he still felt surprise when he heard Stiles speak it out loud. “U…uh, I’m not… so experienced,” Stiles admitted with a wave of his hand, trying to shrug it off like it was no big deal and failing. “Well… I mean, I’m experienced flying solo, lots of that, but uh, not…not with a co-pilot.” He gave a pitiful look at Derek, as if it were something to be ashamed about. 

So Derek replied with a soft kiss, hoping to assure Stiles that lack of experience was no big deal. “Okay,” he said easily. 

Stiles gave a breathy, helpless laugh. “Okay? Not that easy, buddy. Like, you know what you’re doing… and you’re good at it, but for me… it’s…” Stiles sat back, a little frustrated, though he had visibly relaxed. “I keep… picturing it in my head. It’s supposed to be powerful and every guy’s dream, but I can’t… It won’t be perfect.” 

Derek leaned even further over and kissed him quiet, pushing Stiles down until he lay again on top of the billionaire. “It’s supposed to be fun,” Derek assured him. “Whatever you want to do, Stiles, so long as it’s fun.” 

Stiles bit his lip. “What if-“ 

Derek kissed him again. “No what ifs,” he demanded, scolding Stiles with his eyes. “Whatever happens is _fine_.” He kissed Stiles’s nose, hands running reassuringly down Stiles’s arms. “Just do what you feel comfortable doing. It’s not all about orgasms and porn and perfection and _power_ **.** ” 

Okay, maybe that last bit was a total lie. But Stiles didn’t need to know that right now. Maybe ever, really, if Derek could help it.

The words seemed acceptable enough to the billionaire, who took them in with each breath, steadily calming himself. “I might come in my pants?” he finished hastily, looking ashamed.

Ah. Derek had heard this one a lot before. He nuzzled against Stiles’s neck. “I’ll lick you clean, if you want.” They’d been tested some time ago- Stiles didn’t have anything. 

“Okay. Y-Yeah,” Stiles agreed. He still hesitated. “Maybe… after dinner? Not right now?” The voice was soft and pleading. 

Ah. For Stiles, the mood was over. Derek sat up, nodding his agreement. “Whenever you want,” he agreed. “If you change your mind, that’s okay too.” 

The billionaire didn’t meet his gaze. “I’m sorry,” he apologized, eyes focused in his lap. “I totally had it up, but then…” he trailed off.

Derek sighed and shook his head. “Don’t be,” he said softly, stroking Stiles’s cheek gently. All the insecurities were appearing today, it seemed. Derek continued to pet Stiles’s cheek. “Happens to me too,” Derek assured the billionaire. “At least you aren’t paid to get it up.” 

He smiled at Stiles’s bark of laughter.

 

***

 

Stiles had some sort of dinner that night, a meeting with the other businessmen, so Derek spent the time in the gym looking over the rather nice and new machines. It’d be good to burn away some of that anticipation for tonight. Plus, Stiles might come back when Derek returned to his room, covered in sweat. It’d be a treat to see Stiles’s reaction in person and tease him about taking showers together. 

Alas, none of this turned out. Instead Derek got back to his hotel room after the gym to see a text on his phone from Stiles. 

 

**Message From** : Stiles

 

Hey, Derek. Dinner’s taking a bit longer, but I should be up in an hour or so. Movies? Pizza? Dinner was more conversation than food, unfortunately. My room is 2501, but you know it. Right next to yours.

 

**End Message**

 

Not a lot of time to prepare, then, Derek thought, but he could hit the shower and come over with semi-wet hair. Stiles wouldn’t really mind. They’d always seen each other dressed formally; informally might be a nice change of pace. He couldn’t imagine having those thoughts with any other client- he always had to be “on”, always on his game. But somewhere along the line he and Stiles were comfortable, honest, lazy guys who happened to make out and go to dinners and fancy parties.

Derek liked this newfound laziness, this lack of personal care. He’d wash his face but decided to leave out the product; Stiles didn’t 

That said, Derek still made sure to trim his pubes. Just in case Stiles really did care. 

 

***

 

The door was already open for him when Derek arrived at Stiles’s hotel room. Entering, Derek noted that where he had kept his hotel room sparse and clean, Stiles’s room seemed soft and was already messy, clothes and papers strewn about. The billionaire currently was curled over an Ipad, looking over reports and charts. He put up no resistance when Derek easily slid onto the sofa next to him, leaning against Stiles’s arm.

Stiles didn’t even look at him before he spoke. “Ugh, you big puppy,” Stiles joked, setting his Ipad down. “Fine.” He turned to glare at Derek.

“Woof,” Derek replied, playing along with the joke. Using his nose, he poked Stiles’s arm over and over again. Stiles with his nose now. Quickly the billionaire adjusted himself on the sofa, settling Derek between his legs, and tossing the back cushions off the sofa for extra width. Derek moved his body forward, lips opening in display of what he wanted to do. 

The last pillow fell onto the ground behind Derek, narrowly avoiding a lamp. “I can do kisses, “ Stiles agreed against Derek’s lips, his hands already searching for skin underneath Derek’s shirt. Hot puffs of air hit Derek’s lips, and Derek attempted to catch them with his teeth, playing up the puppy idea before sealing the gap between their mouths. 

Stiles arched up into the kiss, pressing their bodies together while Derek attempted to pin Stiles’s squirming form beneath him. It was a hopeless cause and Derek quickly gave up and helping Stiles lift off his shirt instead. The billionaire shivered at the sudden cool air, but Derek’s hands traced over his skin, warming him back up again. 

_Or so Stiles’s probably believes_ , Derek thought, hands already mischievously seeking out Stiles’s nipples. 

Not too many guys had sensitive nipples, Derek knew. Still, it was worth a shot. At worst they tried something that didn’t work, and Stiles could see Derek make a fool of himself, and at best, Stiles would have puffy, swollen little nubs by the time Derek finished playing with them.

While Derek’s hands moved to squeeze and massage Stiles’s pecks, Stiles’s hands ran underneath Derek’s shirt, fingernails leaving little scratches on his skin. It only served to heat Derek up faster- Stiles couldn’t have known about that kink, but certainly Derek could enjoy it. They both moaned in each other’s mouths at the same time, and rather than laugh at themselves, it only served to motivated them into making the other come faster, a reminder that they were both enjoying this. 

The billionaire’s legs wrapped around him as Derek sucked on Stiles’s lower lip again, hands still kneading Stiles’s chest. Finally, convinced to move on, Derek ran his thumbs over each nipple. 

The reaction was beautiful. Derek could practically feel the intake of breath, the vacuum over his mouth, the way Stiles’s body practically lifted itself against Derek’s. All of it drove Derek crazy. His next brush was much harder, fingers circling the areola before a quick flick against the nub of nipples. 

Stiles humped against him at that, hips jerking upward, seeking friction from Derek’s body. Derek the skin of Stiles’s neck at that, leaving sloppy kisses as he slid upwards towards Stiles’s ear. Stiles pleaded, rubbing his hard on against Derek’s own, trying to show the other man how much Stiles needed to find some sort of release. 

“Wanna bite you here,” Derek accentuated with a pinch on Stiles’s chest, ignoring Stiles’s silent pleas for orgasm. The billionaire arched up upwards into him, gasping, moaning as Derek twisted Stiles’s nipple around, playing with the nubby little thing. When the sugar baby finally let go it was red and a bit swollen, but otherwise undamaged.

Never had the atmosphere gotten this hot between them before. The make-outs were too few and they were both a little too drunk. But they’d crossed the bridge now, both of them open and wanting, and Stiles wasn’t showing any signs of slowing down. Derek didn’t plan for full on sex tonight, oral or anal, but a bit of heavy petting might have been what Stiles needed.

So Derek slid his hand downward in between their bodies. “Wanna touch you _here_ ,” he breathed hotly, hand moving further downward, past the planes of Stiles’s stomach. He didn’t stop until his fingers gripped the hem of Stiles’s pants, feeling little hairs brush against his knuckles. 

Rapidly Stiles nodded, head slamming up and down. “Please,” he managed, fingers trailing up Derek’s back, nails digging into Derek’s skin in some attempt to stave off his arousal. “Want you to touch me.” 

Derek grinned, thrilled at how flustered Stiles seemed and how this pace seemed to be better for his mindset. Derek pressed another kiss on Stiles’s ear, hands unbuttoning Stiles’s pants with practiced ease. Stiles’ hips jutted upward again, frantically seeking Derek’s fingers. Derek smiled, his long digits gripping the zipper and creeping downward. 

A whimper filled the air as Stiles beautifully came undone. Lightly Derek rested his fingers over the cloth of Stiles’s pants, tapping against Stiles’s cock. Derek loved this, loved how much Stiles trusted Derek- putting himself in Derek’s hands. He wondered, in the end, if there was anything he really could offer Stiles outside of sex. Right now, Stiles wanted sex, wanted this, and this was something Derek could easily give.

He kissed Stiles’s mouth again, pulled away and helped slide Stiles’s shirt off; kissed Stiles’s neck again, suckling down Stiles’s jugular, pressing kisses on Stiles’s collarbone while his right hand continued to flick Stiles’s nipple, his left drumming along the outline of Stiles’s cock, fingertips feeling the warm moist air vibrating from Stiles’s pants. 

“Derek,” Stiles breathed, hips gyrating, seeking Derek’s touch, “I need…” he shuddered out, face red, more than the flush that had started down his chest.

Derek kissed down that flush, mouth sucking on his tit, tongue flipping against his nipple. Stiles’s chest jumped, squirming. “Not there,” Stiles breathed, eyes pleading through their half-lidded form. 

“Oh?” Derek teased. “Where?” He’d planned to tease just a little longer- that way, if Stiles came early they could blame teasing and not inexperience. But like always, Stiles surprised him with his forwardness. 

The billionaire shakily grabbed Derek’s left wrist, hands warm and sweaty, leading him in his pants, closer to his dick. Derek stroked the muscle through Stiles’s briefs, the fabric wet and soppy with Stiles’s precome. He found the head of Stiles’s dick, running his fingers around it. 

Stiles attempted some sort of glare, mouth opening to scold Derek, but Derek stole his words from him, tongue diving into Stiles’s mouth. One hand slipped into Stiles’s briefs while the other hand came downwards to push the pants down. It was perhaps the only unsmooth event in the entire night. There wasn’t enough leverage on the sofa for Derek to easily lower Stiles’s pants. They had to awkwardly stand up and manually take them off. 

Luckily, the mood hand’t been ruined, and Stiles nearly threw himself back in the same position, ready for anything Derek would give him.

As Stiles’s cock bobbed free, Derek noted how perfectly red and throbbing the erection looked, nestled between Stiles’s legs and arcing toward his stomach. He ran his hands over the cock again, noting how Stiles’s body tensed- close to coming. Stiles looked beautiful, eyes unfocused, chest powerfully heaving. Derek pulled away, wrist flicking upward, fingers running over the slit-

Stiles jerked, body tensing one last time as he came with a cry. Pants of breath rushed against Derek’s cheek as Derek placed light, loving kisses along Stiles’s chin. Something inside him felt free, released, like no longer chained down, a suffocating air suddenly clearing. “Beautiful, Stiles,” Derek murmured. “Wanna do it again and again. You’re gorgeous as you come apart.” He couldn’t help the praise easily spilling from his lips, and he’d say it again and again. All of it was true. 

They waited a moment for Stiles to get his breath back, and Derek didn’t mind that minutes continued to pass. He was content merely watching Stiles breathe, watching Stiles adjust to his surroundings. 

“Hey,” Stiles breathed, “Tomorrow, can I touch you?” 

Forward as always. Derek nodded, wiping his hands on his own pants, hoping to excuse himself to finish off his own erection.  

Stiles wasn’t done. “Maybe blowjobs? In the morning?” 

Derek chuckled. “Anything you want,” he agreed. Blowjobs would be nice. The morning would be nice. The flight and the gym had left him feeling a bit tired.  

Stiles lazily sat up, body satiated. “That’s my line.” He grinned, hair tussled and lips swollen, skin wet and red, though all of that would fade by tomorrow morning. Stiles brimmed with new-found confidence, the kind that came after sex. It looked good on him, Derek decided. 

 

***

 

Back in Derek’s hotel room, his phone blinked awake in the dark of the light.

 

**Message from: Deucalion**

 

Hello Erek. Or should I say, Derek? I’ve come across some interesting videos recently of some of your early work. They’re quite captivating, a true display of innocence and tenderness. Well, in some of them, at least.

I know you’re happy with your Stilinski Daddy right now. Does he know about the videos? I’d hate to see his face if they got out. And the PR… what a scandal that would be. 

Luckily, I know a way to keep those videos hidden. Contact me and we’ll work on it together. 

You have 24 hours to respond. 

 

**End Message**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> STORY ISN'T DEAD
> 
> ~yay~
> 
> Writer's block in Jan. No internet in Dec. What a wonderful couple of months. But! Two chapters left, yes. Both nearly finished being written, yes (as in, 80% for each). And one of them is an epilogue! 
> 
> We are almost finished!
> 
> (I plan to put the next chapter up in the next couple of days- I waited in posting this until I had some backlog. I know I've made you all wait a long time for this chapter, so I wanted to diminish the waiting time for the next one, as this one ended on a cliffhanger.)


	13. Chapter 13

Despite what many romantic comedies had taught teenage Derek, older Derek had found in life that he rarely wanted to cuddle after sex. Sure, maybe for fifteen minutes, but when it came to sleeping after sex, Derek was done with cuddles. He wanted his own space and nothing could convince him otherwise.

Of course, Derek thought as something roused him from sleep. Stiles had to be the exception. Stiles crawled over to where Derek was, surrendering his own covers and pressing himself against Derek’s chest, keeping the other man close. Somehow the unconscious sacrifice of warmth just to get closer to Derek made him give in and allow Stiles to rest next to him, adjusting the blankets so Stiles was covered. In the darkness Stiles smiled sleepily, pressing light kisses on any patch of skin he could reach, hands curling in between them. It didn’t feel sexual, just affectionate.

Somehow it tore at Derek, like he didn’t believe it. There wasn’t any way he deserved to get something like this: two people romantically interested in each other, both falling hard and enjoying it. The sugar baby swallowed, trying to remind himself this was a job and Stiles could keep doing that if it made the sugar daddy happy.

He trusted Stiles enough to let him do it, anyway, and closed his eyes, fighting against his instincts. Sleep came in waves, then. At one point Derek moved and Stiles groaned and held his arm tightly. In another he woke to Stiles murmuring, “You’re amazing,” over and over, confident in the darkness or with Derek’s supposed slumber. But he _knew_ , somehow, that none of the actions were sexual to Stiles, none of them demanding sex, either, and each time Derek awoke the strange feeling in his heart intensified like gusts of wind, until he was groundless but lighter than air, both terrified and exhilarated.

The last time Derek awoke in the night Stiles was pressing their fingers together, speaking softly. “You’re so cool,” he murmured, “you don’t let anything stop you. You don’t run from anything, you just face it head-on. You don’t make any excuses.” Stiles ran his fingertips up and down Derek’s own, sighing.

Derek closed their hands together, surging forward and wrapping his free hand around Stiles’s torso while he pressed a kiss against Stiles’s hair. Stiles tightened then relaxed. “Sorry to wake you,” he murmured.

“Go to sleep,” Derek scolded him. “You have a meeting. And if you don’t sleep enough tonight, you won’t get any morning blowjobs.”

Stiles tensed a little before he was struggling in Derek’s grip to turn around. “ _Morning_ blowjobs? Like… _before_ the meeting?”

Derek sighed. “I had planned for that, if you were game.”

“Totally game. So game,” Stiles agreed. “Will this game be while I’m in a suit, or in bed, or maybe at the fifty yard line of the shower-“

“Stiles,” Derek growled in warning.

“Shutting up,” Stiles hastily obliged, wiggling around even more. Derek knew he shouldn’t have brought up sex, no matter how happy it made Stiles. It was asking for trouble.

As Derek felt himself drift off, Stiles fired off one last statement. “Derek, I want to have all the sex,” the sugar daddy admitted.

Derek squeezed Stiles a little tighter to encourage his previous command of silence. “I know,” he sighed to himself.

 

***

 

It didn’t surprise Derek that he woke up before Stiles. The other man lay still curled inside his arms, but Derek glanced at the clock and winced. 5:30. Too early to wake Stiles, but he knew Stiles would need at least an hour to prepare with Jackson for his meetings, which started up at nine. He could help, at least. He rolled off the bed-

“No blowjob,” Stiles groaned. “Sleeping.” He pulled the covers in over his head.

Derek wasn’t about to argue with that. Closing the bedroom door behind him, Derek called for room service to deliver breakfast in an hour, and then hopped into the shower, still careful not to disturb the man in the bedroom. He felt a little guilty and wondered if Stiles had wanted him to stay, but being up and running encouraged Stiles to start the day as well. As Derek stepped out of the shower, he noted his stubbly face in the mirror. He decided against shaving. Stiles always liked rubbing his stubble against his skin.

It wasn’t until he opened the door to exit the bathroom that he realized he’d left his clothes in his hotel room. Well, he was mostly dry. But he should get dressed, if only to greet room service. He crept into the bedroom, giving up pretense of being sneaky when he saw Stiles had one sleepy eye open.

“My clothes are in my room,” Derek informed him.

He watched as Stiles opened both eyes, brazenly looking at Derek’s crotch before meeting his eyes. In response, Derek dropped the towel, their eyes locked together. He smirked when Stiles looked down at the damp patch of hair between his legs. “Still wanna sleep?” he asked, coming closer to Stiles, cock swinging freely.

Stiles planted his face into the pillow, groaning. “After the meeting,” he pleaded. He kept his grip on the pillow tight, trying to will himself not to give into his arousal. “I brought 100 condoms, and we’re going to use all of them, I promise.”

Derek found he looked forward to it, mind conjuring ways to use those condoms again and again. “Okay. Sleep. I’ll wake you up when breakfast comes.” He patted Stiles on the shoulder, hands trailing down his exposed back until the quilt blocked his bath to exposed skin.

“Stay,” Stiles pleaded, the sound muffled. “Dress later.” He reached a hand out for Derek’s arm and half-heartedly attempted to tug Derek into bed. It didn’t take much for Derek to raise his leg over Stiles, taking place in his original left side of the bed. He leaned up against the headboard, smirking as Stiles’s left hand searched out for him, finding his arm and patting it, pleased. Then it moved to his wet chest hair, fingers dragging through what Stiles found there. Apparently Stiles still wasn’t over touching Derek, despite how little Stiles had slept through the night.

“You’re going to be on edge all day, aren’t you?” Derek asked, moving the hand down to his thigh in what he hoped was a more comfortable location for the billionaire. He could picture Stiles now, filled with anticipation and impatient energy in order to get back to Derek. That thought sparked little sensations of pride in Derek.

Instead of responding, Stiles’s hand moved in towards Derek’s thigh, seeking out his cock. Derek quickly put a stop to that by rolling on top of Stiles, pinning him under Derek’s weight. “Sleep,” Derek commanded, his voice nearly a growl.

“Fine,” Stiles relented, turning his head to the side. It didn’t take long for him to fall into slumber, settling in underneath Derek like he didn’t mind the weight.

Gingerly Derek stood up, heading over to the closet to try and find a suit for Stiles that morning. He found one that looked nice, and set it over a chair in one corner of the room. He looked for undershirts and set them on top of the suit, following with socks and after there were no more clothes to choose for Stiles he went into the bathroom and hid his insufferable hair gel. Jackson, Stiles’s PR manager, would thank him for it later.

Once there was nothing left to do for Stiles’s prep, he pulled out a fluffy robe and sat in the living area. Stiles might like looking at his cock but room service was a different story. Noting Stiles’s bag in the living area, Derek moved through his notes, putting them in order and making sure Stiles had everything he would need. He’d helped Stiles before on occasion before presentations, so he didn’t feel like he was overstepping his boundaries.

But there was an article in the bag that caught his attention. He pulled it out of the bag, looking at what was a magazine cut out with a picture of Derek and Stiles laughing at a party. Derek hadn’t paid much attention to the media and he thought Stiles hadn’t either, but apparently this article was worth keeping.

 _Billionaire Stiles Stilinski and Boyfriend laughing together at HidemePrivacy celebrations_ , the caption stated. Derek traced the photo of Stiles. They looked happy together.

He scanned the article.

_Billionaire creator of HidemePrivacy, the infamous app that hides your phone from big data, seems to have a new beau! We’ve caught shots of him before with this mysterious man, but there they are in the open! Have we ever seen Mr. Stilinski so happy? Of course, if we had a partner as pretty we’d certainly be happy too! Look at those muscles! Look at that tux!_

_Gone seem the days of a drunken man child,_ the article added, with a picture of Scott holding up Derek at a party before. _He’s shaped up recently. Perhaps for true love? Or perhaps he’s been replaced by an alien! Anyway, we’ll keep you posted on any information about this budding relationship at Gossipmags4us/Stanonymous_.

Derek smiled to himself, setting the article back in the bag and moving to his own ipad to look up the website. The website looked like normal gossip nonsense, but there were a lot of cute photos of them: in cars, as couples, all of them at places Stiles had warned Derek about the paparazzi at banquets and dinners. So far, nobody knew him.

A knock on the door jarred him from his search. Room service, he guessed, and as he opened the door he’d guessed right. He let the man come in and set the tray down while Derek reached into his wallet and giving the guy a generous tip (Stiles could afford a loss of a hundred dollars). The guy practically flew out of the room and Derek locked the door behind him, checking the time. 6:30. Stiles would have enough time to shower and get ready, and if he had more time with Jackson, it wouldn’t hurt either of them.

He picked up a plate and placed some melons and grapes on it, walking into the bedroom and not bothering to close the door. “Morning time,” he announced, sitting on the bed and tossing a grape at Stiles’s face.

“Much,” Stiles groaned, turning his head to look at Derek.

Derek rewarded him with the toss of another grape. “Time to get up,” he announced.

 

***

 

Derek finished tying Stiles’s tie, something so domestic in the atmosphere between them that Derek couldn’t help but finish the tie with a peck to Stiles’s cheek. “Good luck today.”

The billionaire grinned cheekily. “With you organizing my notes, I don’t need luck.” He waited until Derek pulled back before looked at him. “And the sexing? We’ll have sexing once I get back, right? Baby-O?”

Though the words were stupid and grated on Derek’s nerves, Stiles’s eyes looked eager and hopeful. Responding to those eyes, Derek leaned forward and promised those things with a kiss. Though Stiles began to eagerly respond, Derek pulled away. “Go to work,” he commanded. “But yes. More of that later.”

Stiles grinned. “Yeah.” He took off with a salute, Jackson’s ringtone beeping on his phone.

Fondly Derek watched him go through the hallway, disappearing down the steps. He closed the door to the room and opened his own room, preparing to shower before dressing up in gym clothes. The door clicked behind him and he threw his robe onto the sofa.

A clattering sound grabbed Derek’s attention. He leaned over to see his phone on the ground, blinking about an unread text. Sighing he grabbed it and took it into the bathroom, reading it.

He stopped still in front of the shower.

For a moment, the world started spinning. All he could process were the thoughts that Stiles was in danger if Derek didn’t go, and that Deucalion was a bastard. The rich man would humiliate Stiles if Derek didn’t leave him.

The air felt knocked out of his lungs, his mind felt fuzzy, but he had to contact Deucalion. He didn’t have much time left to contact the bastard.

Hands shaking, he brought his phone to his ear, dialing Deucalion’s number. He let it ring seven times before the automatic operator announced “please leave a message”. Derek swallowed, something acidic eating away in his stomach. Tension built throughout his body. He knew Deucalion was playing a power game; wanted to make Derek call him back multiple times. Given the message, Deucalion had more pictures. Something incriminating.

Had his phone been compromised? Had Deucalion hacked into his TV, his watch? He kept his mind thinking of all the things Deucalion had given him. There could have been bugs in any of them. Deucalion could have heard their conversations, could have photographed them from cameras. Nothing was safe.

Shit. _Stiles_ wasn’t safe. The things he’d told Derek in confidence, things that Deucalion could twist against him. And Derek’s backstory- Deucalion probably knew all of it. The press would have a field day if it ever got out; they’d tear down Stiles’s name and run it through the mud. Stiles would be humiliated.

What choice did Derek have but to call again? He swallowed, fingers shaking as he called Deucalion’s number.

Again, there was no answer. Derek pressed one for a voice message.

“Call me back, you son of a bitch,” Derek hissed into his phone. He ended the call, throwing the phone on his bed angrily. Trapped, helpless. There was nothing he could do but agree to become Deucalion’s plaything, something the bastard knew. He’d bided his time, waited until Derek had gotten attached, and-

It was hopeless. Fuck. This was all too, too hopeless.

Maybe Deucalion didn’t have the video. Maybe it was a lie. Derek knew the video existed. Hell, there were plenty of them, he remembered from when Kate had shown them all to him, in an attempt to keep him with her. And they served their purpose well. He had stayed, afraid of what his mother would say. Now they were working just like last time, except instead of his mother, there was Stiles.

Angrily he looked at his phone. Nothing.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Derek took a couple of deep breaths, trying to figure out what to do.

Right now, Deucalion wasn’t going to respond. Okay. Derek could accept that. And he knew what Deucalion wanted: he wanted Derek to join his little harem, to be a sweet submissive man just like their meetings. Derek swallowed. That would be hell. Even if he was submissive, there was no trust to build a relationship on.

Instinctively Derek looked into the mirror, and his pale, sweaty reflection looked back at him. Terrified. He didn’t need his reflection to tell him that.

A mark on his neck was enough to give him pause. Slowly his fingers reached up to trace the mark that Stiles had left on his skin, a sort of brand. He didn’t want to hurt Stiles; he didn’t want to let Stiles down. He could imagine the disgust in Stiles’s eyes when he’d seen what Derek had done; he could imagine how Stiles would turn away from him. Those thoughts hurt far more than imagining a life submitting to Deucalion.

Derek swallowed, watching as his reflection in the mirror did the same. At least right now he _could_ go to the gym. He’d try to push this from his mind in the gym and wait happily for Stiles to return from the meeting. That much he could do.

 

***

 

It was easy for Derek to forget his somber mood and the reason why his somber mood existed when Stiles came back into the hotel room with a grin on his face. “It went awesomely,” he announced proudly, taking off his suit jacket and throwing it over the table. “They’re gonna roll over and submit to my awesome products.” He flopped onto the sofa with flair, all confidence and charisma, smiling at Derek with something akin to lust in his eyes. Derek smiled back. This was nothing like the shy, insecure Stiles rambling on, unsure of what to say, how to regard Derek. This was a secure Stiles, knowing what he wanted.

“Ah, also,” Stiles added, further proving Derek’s point as he pulled out a shopping bag. “I got you a little something extra. Thought you might like it.” He smiled as he handed it over to the sugar baby sitting on the edge of the sofa. No longer did Stiles ask for advice about gifts, now giving them freely and without any awkwardness. Their relationship had grown.

Their affection for each other had grown as well, Derek thought, taking Stiles’s bag and opening it up. Several packages lay inside, all neatly wrapped and indistinguishable. “Boxes. You shouldn’t have,” he teased, and Stiles curled up next to him, pressing their bodies together in a comfortable manner, eagerly waiting to watch Derek’s reaction.

Unwrapping golden cufflinks and black leather shoes felt more like Christmas than any other time in Derek’s life. With Jennifer gifts had been almost boring; an immediate decision to sell or keep receipts in case he needed to pawn them off. But with Stiles, instead he thought about what suits went best with the cufflinks, how soon he could wear his shoes, what suits would fit them. He wanted to show them off, make everyone look at what an incredible sugar daddy Stiles was to him.

“Your old ones were starting to show wear,” Stiles added, his hands coming on top of the shoes and draping his torso over Derek’s arm. Their faces were close, skin brushing against skin.

Using that for an excuse, Derek leaned over and kissed Stiles, shoving thoughts of Deucalion to the back of his mind to stay. Stiles immediately responded to the kiss, deepening it up and wrapping his arms around Derek’s neck, trying to pull Derek on top of him as he sank back to the couch. Derek didn’t mind one bit, following Stiles down, teeth nibbling on Stiles’s lower lip just a hint, feeling Stiles’s body squirm as endorphins rushed through the sugar daddy’s veins.

“How are you so good at that?” Stiles breathed as Derek focused on unbuttoning Stiles’s shirt. “Like, do you go to college for kissing? Did you Graduate with honors?”

Chuckling lowly, Derek pressed his lips to each new section of skin exposed as he unbuttoned Stiles’s shirt. By now he knew Stiles would keep talking but he didn’t mind it near so much. Nor did he tune it out like he had before. He just let Stiles ramble on, soaking in every piece of Stiles, committing it to memory in case he couldn’t later. “Double-major in foreplay,” Stiles breathed.

“Most sex workers have 4.0s in that subject,” Derek informed, sliding the shirt off Stiles’s waist, his head moving towards the right, kissing against Stiles’s ribcage. He could feel Stiles take a breath, but pulled back to  continue speaking. “You should really wear an undershirt.”

Stiles slumped into the sofa, sexual tension diminished. “Now is not _really_ the time for that,” the sugar daddy pouted, trying to adjust his legs around Derek and failing. “Fashion advice choices. I get enough of those from Lydia and Jackson, thank you very much.” He nearly jumped as Derek moved up his side, kissing to his armpit. “Okay. I don’t know how you think that’s sexy-“

Derek tugged on the hair with his lips, his left hand squeezing Stiles’s waist. Stiles let out the most pornographic moan Derek had ever heard.

“-But it really is,” Stiles finished, face red and ready to power through the embarrassment. “Holy fuck, that felt awesome.” He turned his head to Derek, trying to encourage Derek to move towards his face again. Instead Derek let his right hand intertwine with Stiles’s, kissing across to Stiles’s closest nipple. “Derek,” he murmured. “Missed me, huh?”

Derek only hummed, not wanting to think about the day. He moved his mouth around the pinkish dot, flicking it with his teeth. Stiles groaned, though not as affected as before, and smirked. “I missed you too, Derek. Spent the whole meeting thinking of nothing more than how awesome it was knowing you were back here, that you wanted me too.”

Suddenly Stiles shut up, suddenly slamming his body upright and moving away. He must have said something too revealing. Derek moved back, the words reeling in his mind. _You wanted me too_. Stiles wasn’t red with embarrassment; instead he looked sick, stricken. He’d obviously not meant to say that.

Cue the excuses in three, two…

On cue, Stiles began covering his tracks. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he redacted. “I mean… I know this is a job for you and that I’m paying you to be here, but I-“

“I do want you.” The words were blunt, stark, nothing more than factual. They weren’t gussied up or seductive, merely simple and plain. They were true.

What a terrible business sense, Derek thought. He took a couple of breaths, the world suddenly a lot lighter. He did want Stiles. He wanted to protect Stiles, to always be there for him.

Stiles looked at him like he was crazy, which seemed fair. Derek felt crazy. It’d probably been the most open he’d ever been to anyone, even Erica. Of course Stiles didn’t want him; this was business, this was Derek’s _luck_ -

Stiles reached over and grabbed his hand. Derek looked up at him with hope. The action had to be warm. Cautiously he slid his eyes to Stiles’s face, trying to read the other man.

Oh.

With pupils wide and jaw set, his torso screaming pounce, Derek understood two things.

One: They both wanted each other. They were both head for heels over each other. And they’d just admitted it to each other in the most awkward of ways.

Two: They were going to get laid. Right now.

“To the bedroom,” Stiles demanded.  He got up and knocked over a table (two tables), tripped over his own luggage, but by damn did he make sure Derek followed him to the bedroom.

 

***

 

Derek had expected this moment to go much more smoothly. Maybe a bit of seduction, a quick hint of a smolder, maybe a bit of innuendo. Instead Stiles nearly threw Derek onto the bed, letting gravity help him pull off Derek’s shirt and gracelessly clambering over Derek. His enthusiasm wasn’t faked or forced, though, which Derek enjoyed. He fell into the moment as Stiles initiated their kisses, Stiles’s legs coming up to kneel on each side of Derek’s waist.

Derek could work with this, the sugar baby decided. He was flexible, after all. Derek could easily switch from missionary to cowgirl, despite the romantic ideals that his fantasies had built up for him. Just as hastily and desperately, he wrapped his hands around the globes of Stiles’s ass, giving a squeeze.

“Fuck, yeah,” Stiles muttered against his lips, going back for a kiss, dominant and demanding.

It sent sparks through Derek’s blood. He lifted up his hips for a moment, grinding them upwards against Stiles’s crotch, feeling the hint of balls against the tip of his cock. Stiles taking control like this was something Derek hadn’t expected so soon. But he liked it. He liked this confident Stiles, who knew what he wanted: Stiles wanted Derek to fuck him. Derek was on board with that plan 100%.

It was a kind reprieve from the numbing fear earlier, so Derek let himself fall away to the feeling, hands skimming over the planes of Stiles’s stomach and reveling in the warmth of the billionaire’s skin. It wasn’t at all like the sex Derek would do for work: emotionless, going through the motions. His connection with Stiles made this fun, made it special. The connection made the sex, not the other way around, and despite all his experience everything with Stiles felt exciting and new.

He breathed deeply, taking in the site of a flushed Stiles, smiling as Stiles smiled back at him.

“100 condoms,” Stiles informed him happily, leaning over the bed to pull some out of the dresser. Great minds thought alike, Derek thought, remembering his own stashed in his hotel room. The billionaire threw a bunch on the bed, no finesse but lots of enthusiasm, and Derek found he didn’t mind so much.

“Condom confetti for us!” Stiles continued, silly. Derek just smiled at him in an equally silly way, though when he spoke it was clear his face was a deception. “You’re mistaken if you think I’m fucking you on top of a bunch of condoms,” he replied coldly, leaning up on his elbows.

Stiles pushed his chest back down. “You’re mistaken if you think I’m not riding you,” he replied hesitantly, as if the words were a bit too much. Derek assured him with a strong flick of his hips, watching Stiles’s face turn from unsure to aroused as he rode the steady wave of Derek’s muscular hips, knees tightening around Derek’s waist, confidence building all the while.

Derek patted Stiles’s knees. “You have lube?”

Stiles huffed. “I researched fifty different brands,” he announced proudly. “And I got the best one for anal sex. Also,” Stiles began, reaching into the drawer again and pulling out a bottle of silicon lubricant, “I’ve been researching a lot for anal sex and I’ve been practicing on my fingers for weeks now, so no need to tell me how it’ll take time to prepare my sweet virgin ass.” He slapped it for emphasis.

Of course Stiles had researched the ins and outs of anal sex. This was Stiles, always thorough and prepared. Even though Stiles had claimed he’d been practicing, Derek wanted to be sure Stiles had stretched himself properly and wide enough. Derek didn’t know how much or when Stiles had fingered himself. Not enough would be painful, and their time together shouldn’t be painful.

Also, Derek wondered if-

“I totally, um, cleaned myself out,” Stiles added, blushing a little. “During the break. I had, uh, kinda hoped for something like this.”

Derek raised his eyebrows. Well-prepared indeed. “Good thinking,” he praised, watching as Stiles puffed up underneath it. Stiles looked so happy whenever Derek gave him words of encouragement or praise.

He’d be sure to praise Stiles a lot today. Stiles deserved nothing less, especially when…

“You mind if I stretch you out myself?” Derek asked, wiggling his fingers along Stiles’s stomach. Stiles nearly dropped the lube in surprise, but managed to catch it last minute. Derek looked up at him earnestly.

“Not at all.” The billionaire’s face flushed as he stuttered out the words, leaning back and passing the lube into Derek’s hand on his stomach. “Um-“

“Clean up the condoms,” Derek commanded. “And get your pants off.” He sat up, attempting to push Stiles off his lap. Stiles shook his head and pushed Derek back with a kiss, pinning Derek to the mattress. Their bodies rubbed together deliciously, sweat heat created from every rut, sending sensation through their dicks. “Stiles,” he breathed, but Stiles continued to kiss him in challenge so Derek kissed back, trying to wiggle his hand in between their bodies.

Stiles beat him to it, his hands finding the hem of Derek’s shirt and pulling it upwards, a mimicry of the other day. He even paused to try and rub Derek’s nipples, but alas, they weren’t nearly as sensitive as Stiles’s. “Sorry,” Derek breathed as Stiles pouted, pulling Derek’s shirt off his head.

“It’s fine,” Stiles answered, face red and blotchy. “I’m a little wound up, and I wanted to make sure that-“

Derek managed to unbutton his own pants then, quickly unbuttoning Stiles’s. “I’m horny, too,” he assured Stiles. “Just watching you turns me on,” he added. “I’ll try to be more…” he slipped his hand into the front of Stiles’s pants. “Hands on.”

“Terrible pun,” Stiles groaned, bucking into his hand.

Derek leaned up, slipping Stiles’s pants and undies down his hips. Luckily Stiles automatically followed his motions, stepping out of his pants and kicking them to the floor. He leaned back over Derek. “Your turn,” he breathed, taking off Derek’s pants and briefs, eyes wide like Derek was Stiles’s pretty little present.

Well, in a way, he was. Derek felt a little pride as Stiles’s eyes went wide upon seeing his cock. The lip-wetting tongue didn’t go unnoticed by Derek, either. What uses he could have for that tongue. Some even involved Derek’s cock.

Derek lifted his hips and let Stiles strip him, thinking about how few more of these opportunities they would have. As Stiles straddled him again he remained lost in thought, thinking over all the strange but fun times they’d had together. Fights that they’d overcome would be meaningless soon. Another adventure in the fitting room would never happen. And-

A kiss planted against mouth pulled Derek from his thoughts. It was tender, tongue gently asking for entrance, Stiles’s lips massaging Derek’s own bottom lip. Derek opened and let Stiles take for a moment, nothing rough or cruel about it, chasing after Stiles a little as the sugar daddy pulled back.

“You’re thinking too much,” Stiles muttered as he leaned in to kiss Derek again, his hands pressing Derek against the pillows. Had Stiles noticed? Was he trying to reassure Derek, let Derek know it’d be okay? Derek felt oddly touched, responding even more enthusiastically. When the pulled away Derek opened his mouth to speak, but Stiles interrupted first.

“Finger me,” he demanded, nipping at Derek’s lips.

Huffing, Derek spread his fingers with the lube. Stiles noticed a lot of things to be sure, but he was still a brat first and foremost. Derek should have guessed Stiles just wanted his attention. He trailed his fingers along Stiles’s spine into the cleft of the billionaire’s ass, feeling the tight pucker of an asshole give underneath his exploring fingers. Stiles gave a little gasp, head suddenly falling next to Derek’s ear, fueling Derek’s lust with hot puffs of breath every so often. Stiles rocked against Derek’s body as he tried to find some sort of friction between them.

When Derek pressed in, Stiles stilled, adjusting to the feeling.

“How is it?” Derek asked, gyrating his finger around, stretching the rim wider. Stiles’s breath hitched before he tried rutting his ass back, seeking friction almost mindlessly. Derek smirked. “That good, huh?” He asked.

Stiles glared at him, clearly not thrilled with the smugness that radiated off the more experienced man. “The lube is cold,” he complained, pretending he wasn’t trying to fuck himself on Derek’s finger.

“Okay,” Derek agreed, taking his finger out, adding more lube to them. Stiles whined at the lack of contact, but stopped the moment Derek pressed two fingers in. Stiles continued to rut against them, but Derek frowned at how shallow his fingers were. He’d need better access if he wanted Stiles to be really prepared. He leaned over to Stiles’s ear. “Turn around,” he breathed, nipping on the earlobe. “You lube me up while I lube you up?” He finished the request with a jerk of his fingers, tugging on the rim of Stiles’s hole. He slid his fingers out and waited for the response.

“Fine.” Stiles lifted himself up, sighing dramatically. “What’s wrong with that position?” he asked, huffing as he turned around.

Before Derek could answer him, he felt Stiles’s familiar fingers on his cock. “Hello there,” Stiles purred, no longer put out. “Never mind. I totally can see the advantages of this position.”

Those long fingers ran up and down Derek’s shaft teasingly, touch light and feathery. If he’d been a lesser man, Derek might have bucked into the sensation. He might have let the heat pouring into his gut affect him and plead Stiles for more, explain how he liked it, quick and light. He might have focused on his pleasure before Stiles’s, might have let the arousal of having someone he _wanted_ to see him naked for the first time ending up so beautifully. But he was a strong man, and he tampered down on those sensations while focusing on the pert ass in front of him. Stiles presented himself so readily and eagerly and Derek wondered if it Stiles instinctively held himself so.

While Stiles reached down his shaft and fondled his balls, rolling them around in his hands, Derek played with the halves of Stiles’s ass, watching as they flexed underneath his squeezing. In the future he might ask to leave little red marks on them, to watch them puff up and bruise, to see what Stiles acted like when he could barely sit without being reminded. After a little bit of squeezing and jiggling, Derek’s fingers reached into that greedy hole, noting how easily it sucked in his fingers.

A hiss of air that brushed his dick was the only reaction from Stiles on the intrusion. His fingers split and moved in circles again, trying to massage the passage wider. The heat inside was velvet-soft and gripped him in, like Stiles desperately wanted to keep his fingers inside him. And when he angled his fingers just so, the grip on his cock shuddered, hands suddenly dropping to his thighs as Stiles let out a cross between a cry and a sob, something wet dripping onto Derek’s stomach.

 _What a debautched sound_ , Derek thought as his cock twitched at the noise. He continued to press up to that spot, sometimes above and sometimes below, mapping out the size and location. Stiles continued to gasp out, hands gripping tightly enough to leave bruises on Derek’s skin. “De, Der,” Stiles panted, pleaded, little aborted cries of Derek’s name.

“Hmm?” Derek practically purred, thrilled with how sweetly Stiles responded to his fingers. “Should I add another?”

The words sounded forced from Stiles’s throat, as is ripped out of him. “Please,” Stiles begged, cock spitting even more precome along Derek’s stomach. His body was shaking, tense, perhaps too close.

Derek poured more lube into his hand, thinking of how to best keep Stiles from coming this early. He wouldn’t mind seeing Stiles come untouched. If anything, that would be a wonderful thing to watch but he did want to feel that sweet heat engulf him, suck him down so greedily like it was doing his fingers. “All right,” he agreed, taking his fingers out. He tossed the lube up to Stiles’s hands. “You’ll have to put the condom on me, though.”

The idea of giving Stiles a task worked well enough, and Derek made sure to avoid hitting his prostate this time. As he fought against the soft grip of Stiles’s heat, Stiles’s hands were shakily trying to figure out how to best put a condom on his dick. He jumped as there was a snap.

“S-Sorry,” Stiles sputtered. “I can’t think, Derek, I-“

This far gone, huh? “All right,” Derek said, one final stretch. Stiles hadn’t been lying about prepping himself. He’d be ready to take Derek’s cock. They just had to go slowly, make sure Stiles adjusted to the sensations. “Turn around again and let me see.”

The condom wasn’t broken, but it was only halfway on. With a flick of his wrist Derek finished putting it on, pouring a generous amount of lubricant over his cock. “All right then,” he said, hands guiding Stiles’s hips to where he needed to be.

As Stiles swallowed, Derek allowed himself to take in the sight of the other man. Sweaty and flushed, limbs trembling and eager, Stiles’s bright eyes focused on him, waiting for the next command. His breaths were coming in puffs and the sight of it made Derek’s balls twitch, sending just a little bit of precome out the tip, dribbling in the condom.

“All right,” Derek allowed, his voice breaking just a little. Stiles’s face smugly lit up, proud of what he was doing to Derek. Derek tried not to roll his eyes, letting Stiles adjust his weight on his knees. He took Stiles’s hand, leading it down to his cock. “Feel that?” he asked, the room suddenly a bit too warm and a bit too intense.

Derek loved it.

“Yeah,” Stiles breathed, eyes going shut as he wrapped his fingers around Derek’s dick, probably trying to etch the sensation to memory. “I feel it.”

“All for you, Stiles,” Derek continued. “All of it’s for you to use as _you_ want.”  Derek felt uncertain if he was talking about himself or his dick in that moment, or maybe they were the same. Everything felt muddled and intertwined and Derek didn’t care.

Stiles swallowed, hips lowering, but he didn’t speak. Derek kept guiding his sugar daddy. “Careful. Find your hole,” he paused as Stiles tensed, feeling the warm fluttering along the head of his cock. There it is.” Derek swallowed, his brain suddenly lightheaded as he felt that hole pressing his cock. “All right. I’m not going to thrust up. Sink down on me. Slowly.”

Stiles’s hands moved Derek’s abs to support his weight, leaving Derek to guide his own cock in. Before Derek could say anything, however, a slow, tight heat engulfed him, slipping centimeter by centimeter. Letting out a hiss of breath, Derek looked up at Stiles, wanting to know how much Stiles was enjoying this.

The billionaire’s mouth was in an “o”, face squeezed shut in ecstasy. “So big,” Stiles choked out, sweat dripping down his forehead. Derek took a deep breath to steady himself from the sensations, moving his hands Stiles’s thighs, squeezing him. “Derek, you’re so _big_.”

“You’ll adjust,” Derek assured him, trying to fight the desire building in him just to pound and thrust inside Stiles. “Don’t move until you’re ready.” Stiles’s greedy little hole squeezed even tighter then, forcing a gasp from Derek’s throat. “That’s it.”

Too slowly Stiles took Derek in all the way, breathing heavily in an attempt to control himself. Derek found himself breathing in a similar manner. Stiles winced as he started pushing against Derek’s chest.

Oh, Stiles was going to try and force himself up and down, trying to impale himself again on Derek’s cock. But it looked forced, so Derek spoke up. “You can just grind, if you want,” he suggested.

Stiles looked up at him. “But,” he began, body already testing it out with little thrusts back and forth. “That won’t feel good for you.”

The sugar baby had to strain to keep himself from rolling his eyes. “It already feels good to me, Stiles,” he answered plainly, his hips moving just a little upwards, finding that spot that would keep Stiles from thinking a little too much. “This is all for _you_ , today.”

It took a moment for Stiles to clear his head enough to think it through, but he nodded, his his hips moving in little circles, grinding along Derek’s dick as his back arched so prettily. His body twitched each time he found that spot inside of him, his ass tightening just a little.

Not much time passed before Derek felt he could safely give into the sensations, that he didn’t have to watch and make sure Stiles did something stupid to hurt himself. He again took in the sight of Stiles’s form, flushed and dripping with sweat, body trembling and heated, grinding away against Derek’s dick, rubbing his prostate up against Derek’s cock in the most delicious way.

Derek could see it before Stiles probably even realized it was happening. The billionaire’s muscles tensed again and again, his cock twitching and shaking, his mouth opening and eyes glazing over before he came, shooting over Derek’s chest and abs, clenching around his dick. Derek shifted his hips just a little to press the rest of the orgasm out of Stiles, hands greedily tightening onto those pale thighs.

 _Give me it all_ , Derek thought greedily. _I want all of you like this forever_. His mind clouded over with lust and Stiles weakly pulled off him, hands shaking as he used the last of his energy to push himself off Derek’s cock. He collapsed on top of the sugar baby, panting, experiencing the fun sort of after-glow that came between two people.

The feeling of Stiles’s body pressed against his, breathing and spent and close, pulled Derek over the edge. He wrapped his hands around Stiles’s back, rubbing against the side of Stiles’s inner thigh. The condom would keep the mess from spilling over Stiles, perhaps the only thing Derek regretted over this session. He inhaled a few times and came with a groan.

Stiles’s hands came to his collarbone. “You’re amazing,” Stiles breathed, resting his fingers along the slopes of his shoulders, eyes closing.

“And you’re incredible,” Derek allowed himself to admit out loud. He let them stay there just a little longer before separating them, going off to the bathroom to come back with towels.

It was only as he stood in front of the mirror that the memory of Deucalion washed over him, that he remembered what would have to take place.

Deucalion was going to rip everything away.

 

***

 

The next morning Derek felt even more quiet than usual as he sat next to Stiles on their flight home, though his hand never left Stiles’s on the armrest, thumbing over his skin. Though Stiles seemed to pick up on it, occasionally sending worried looks over at him, Derek would shoot him a reassuring smile and once he even lifted up his hand to kiss it. He didn’t mind the open displays of affection now. If anything, it was a last chance to spend together, one last time holding Stiles’s hand. Derek wanted to keep these memories for as long as he could.

Unable to use an ipad with his one hand, Stiles sighed and leaned on Derek’s shoulder. “You okay?” he asked softly against Derek’s neck. His hand felt sweaty and clammy, nervous, even.

Derek would have given anything in that moment to understand what Stiles was thinking. Did he know Derek was about to break up with him? Was he anxious about everything? Did he regret everything? Was he already starting to hate Derek?

Along those lines, Derek had to figure out how to break up with Stiles, what to say, how to spin it. None of it was Stiles’s fault. Derek had to push him away, keep him safe, and take the blame. This was Derek’s problem. If Stiles stayed away, Deucalion wouldn’t go after the billionaire as well. And if Stiles hated him, that was something Derek was prepared to live with, no matter how heavy that might be.

“Let’s talk in the car,” Derek uttered, his resolve firming.

Stiles squeezed his hand and nodded, his face distressed but steady, as if weathering for a storm.

It was easy wait for the plane to land. It was easy to get off the plane and pick up their luggage. It was easy to crawl into the back of Parrish’s SUV, to stare at Stiles as the billionaire stared back expectantly, face broken.

Strange how difficult it was to speak the words. Derek had forced them from his throat time and time again: “I can’t do this” or “I’m growing too attached” or “Perhaps we should see other people” or “I feel emotions are getting in the way” or “Never see me again”. But with Stiles too steady, eyes waiting on Derek to speak, Derek couldn’t pull the words from his throat. His stomach churned with regrets.

He needed to push Stiles away to protect him.

Stiles spoke first. “Is this because I’m in love with you?” He asked quietly in the back seat of the car, eyes dimly looking near the front of the SUV. Derek paled; he hadn’t thought Stiles _loved_ him. Enamored, yes. Adored, yes. But love? That was a little soon. “I mean, I know you have other clients. I wouldn’t dream of interfering with your business. I…” Stiles swallowed, tears in his eyes. “I thought I was keeping it professional.”

It felt like Derek’s heart had been ripped out of his chest. Stiles knew.

Pushing Stiles away wouldn’t… it wouldn’t make him happy. None of this would make Stiles happy, but maybe he could try and make Stiles understand.

“I don’t _want_ to do this,” Derek admitted, hands on his phone. “I’m being blackmailed.”

Stiles turned to stare at him, face disbelieving. “Blackmailed.” His tone was flat. “Of all the-“

No, no no. Stiles didn’t believe him. Derek opened up his phone. “I broke up with a client when we first got together,” he explained rapidly, flickering through his text messages. “And he didn’t like that. So he found some old videos of when Kate had me.” He thrust his phone into Stiles’s hands. “I don’t want to leave you, Stiles,” he continued, his hands shaking as Stiles read the messages on his phone. “But it’s the only way to protect you.”

As Stiles flicked through his messages Derek realized he’d handed Stiles _everything: his_ clients, his details, his business. Stiles had access to all of Derek’s secrets. And yet Derek felt it was the right thing to do. Stiles deserved to know everything.

“Protect me,” Stiles repeated, looking blankly at the screen. “Because you’re afraid-“ He stopped, his mind putting everything together. There was only one reason that Derek would go out of his way to protect Stiles, only one reason a threat like that would be effective. Derek cared for Stiles. Loved Stiles, even. Now Stiles knew it, his quick mind putting the pieces together.

“The PR would be terrible for you, Stiles,” Derek stated quickly, his hands trembling at his sides. “They press would have a field _week_ with what they could pull out, what they could extort. And you’d be constantly labeled as not suave enough, not good enough. I don’t want to see you suffer because of me,” he finished lamely. “I don’t want to hurt you any more than I have.”

Stiles’s hands were shaking again, and his eyes stupidly wet, though nothing spilled from them. “You self-sacrificing idiot,” he uttered. “There are other things we can do, you know, other things that don’t mean you going along with this and putting yourself on the line.”

With that, Stiles whacked Derek over the head, dropping the phone back in the sugar baby’s lap. Derek whined, giving Stiles a confused look while he rubbed the side of his head. “There isn’t anything else-“

A second hit.

“Derek! He has a video of you when you were a _minor_!”

The truth hit Derek like a wave. His mind stumbled over the idea, trying to place logic along with his shame and pride. Yes, he hadn’t been in control, and yes, he was a minor, but the shame of the actions had overridden those memories. The realization of catching Deucalion on child pornography charges hadn’t even crossed his mind.

How stupid he’d been. He’d needed Stiles to see it, needed to communicate, and he’d wanted to push Stiles away and give up and-

“Derek. Derek,” Stiles said much softer, much more firmly. “Don’t go there, okay?” He slipped himself across Derek’s lap, hands around Derek’s neck. “Breathe with me, Derek. It’s okay.”

Derek nodded, trying to follow Stiles’s voice. It was okay. It was going to be okay. He was with Stiles now.

After a moment of breathing, Stiles spoke. “Do you trust me, Derek?” he asked, pressing his forehead against Derek’s own.

It was unbelievable that Stiles was asking him this now. He’d spoken about his past, he’d gone on a trip, Stiles had seen his apartment, the phone, he knew if Derek trusted him.

“Stupid question, sorry,” Stiles corrected himself. “Sorry. I mean, will you let me help you now? Will you let me protect _you_?”

It seemed unlikely that Stiles could protect Derek from anything; Stiles was unsure, unsteady, and always eager and happy. Derek was jaded, experienced in life, and he knew how these things turned out. “Okay,” he agreed.

“Good,” Stiles affirmed, turning his head. “Head to the office,” he demanded of Parrish, and then turned back to Derek. “I’m going to protect _you_ ,” he assured Derek. “So no more worrying, okay?”

Derek nodded.

Stiles leaned up and kissed him softly once. “It’s gonna be okay,” Stiles assured him. “I’ve got billions and Lydia Martin. Nobody’s going to take advantage of you like that again, okay? Not unless you _want_ it.”

Derek frowned. “Not the best time for a joke,” he complained, but smiled anyway. Stiles kept kissing him, making him ignore the buzzing phone in his lap.

 

***

 

“Not the worst case I’ve seen by far,” Lydia commented, looking over Derek’s phone and the records. “Blackmail. Possession of child pornography. Even his subtle wording leaves little to the imagination.” Derek straightened, ready to hear what she had to say. Stiles slunk back into the chair, defensive.

Her words were clear and concise. “It would be easy to jail this man.” She looked between the two of them. “That’s the easiest part. The difficult part is if he should attack either of Stiles via PR, either via a leaked rumor or through attacking Derek’s credibility during court. As you know, sex work is not exactly viewed as a family friendly job by our society.” She looked at something else. “If the press get ahold of Derek’s name or this video, it’ll be a disaster if we don’t take action now to make you both seem totally enamored with each other. Everyone loves the Pretty Woman story.”

Derek felt his blood boil. That wasn’t at all what his story was, though. Stiles had accepted him being a sex worker, didn’t ask him to stop working, and now he had to _lie_ about-

Stiles took his hand to calm him.  Stiles frowned. “Blackmail?” he asked, trying to change the subject, sensing Derek’s mood.

Lydia shook her head. “Child pornography. He’s in possession of it.” She twirled a pen in her hands, looking at her notes. “It’d be easy to make him into a stalker, and add a blackmail charge to his record.” She motioned her pen in Derek’s direction. “But it does mean that in order to make you look credible to the jurors as a stalking victim, you’ll have to stop your business. If the press asks, everything sex work related was done by a look-alike. I assume you booked your hotel rooms under a different name?”

“I did,” Derek murmured, suddenly cold. His business, everything he’d worked for, and knew how to do- Lydia was telling him to get rid of it.

She eyed him carefully. She knew what she was asking. Derek would have to abandon a lot in order to get this charge. He’d have to give up his living, his clients, his reputation- and it wouldn’t be easy to return to sex work. In some small way, Deucalion had won. Derek couldn’t keep doing what he had for ages.

He sat contemplating all of this, realizing how fucked he might be, when Stiles spoke on his behalf. “That’s Derek’s business, though,” the billionaire piped up. “You can’t just-“

Lydia cut him off. “Provide him with everything he needs, then, Stiles. Even a severance package.” She flipped her hair while writing down numbers. “Make sure Derek is taken care of, that he has a new skill set in order to survive should you two break up.” She looked at Derek. “It’s not that I’m unsympathetic,” she began, her tone suddenly softer.

“I understand,” Derek said, his face rigid. “The jury won’t believe a prostitute.” He spat the words out, frustrated at them, at Deucalion, the world, but he understood. It was the same prejudice at work that had kept Eileen from pressing charges against Kali and clamp her lips up at the police. It was the same thing that forced Erica to drop clients who looked like they might be trouble.

He didn’t have to like it even if he understood it. He nodded at Lydia, meeting her gaze.

She sat back, moving on. “Your roommate? She should move, or you should. Association with her might be bad for you.”

That was too much to ask. “I’m not abandoning Erica,” Derek replied. There was no waver in his voice, and he met her eyes, narrowing his. “You’ll have to deal with that, but I won’t let her deal with this on her own.”

Lydia looked him over, judging his sincerity. Derek refused to waver, keeping his eyes steady. Eventually the lawyer broke first, jotting something down while muttering to herself. “No idea of her occupation.”

Derek could feel himself relaxing. At least Erica was someone he wouldn’t have to give up. “Let’s move back to our target. Is there anything else he’s done?”

Derek frowned, unwilling to speak for a moment. Finally, he relented the last of the information. “He cut me. When I saw him last.” He pulled down his shirt to show the scar. “It was before I went to see Stiles on the boat.”

Stiles paled, remembering the situation, but he nodded. “That hadn’t been there before,” he agreed, squeezing Derek’s hand a little more.

Lydia looked it over and then sighed. “I’ll try to see what I can do, but without a report, it might end up as hearsay,” she allowed. She quickly jotted down a note. “So here’s the deal. Our official story.”

Stiles and Derek nodded in unison as Lydia continued. “Derek and Deucalion were sleeping together, Derek met Stiles online, Deucalion wouldn’t let Derek leave. That’s what we’ll tell the police. In order to keep Derek anonymous, Stiles won’t head to the court. If the press get wind of it, Derek doesn’t want to burden Stiles by having Stiles hear the terrible events of his past, understood? Ideally, we don’t want the media to connect the stories, but…” she trailed off, shrugging.

Both men nodded in unison, faces grim.

“Derek, you need to be with Stiles at all events now. _All_ of them. I’ll have some paparazzi shots scheduled, even. The public will much more readily accept you if you look like a solid team, not just a casual fling.” She continued jotting down things.

“Isn’t Jackson your PR?” Derek asked Stiles softly, curious as to why she was demanding PR things.

“He’s my bitch,” Lydia answered curtly. “How about family meetings? The press eats those up.”

Derek froze in panic. He couldn’t dream of meeting his family with the press. It’d be a disaster. Images of failure and terrible things flashed through his brain as he couldn’t process anything.

Stiles smoothly took over. “My dad for certain. We’ve already met,” he explained.

Lydia nodded. “When you’re comfortable with Derek’s family, tell me. I won’t spring the cameras on them until they know.” Derek was grateful that she didn’t need any more explanations. “Now then. Derek. What are you going to do?”

Derek took in a breath, trying to remember the order. “Cancel my business. Then file for blackmail and report Deucalion for possession of pornography. Have lots of soppy pictures with Stiles on cutesy press-perfect dates and show up to his events.”

The lawyer tapped her pen on the bad. “Excellent.”

Noting her satisfaction, he decided to push just a little. “And blow him in the car when the cameras are on,” Derek added sneakily.

“Hey!” Stiles stared at him his mouth open. “Not like I wouldn’t love that, but, in front of Lydia?” he hissed, continuing to check his lawyer’s face, fearing her anger.

Lydia shrugged. “Couldn’t hurt,” she agreed, writing something on the paper. “Stiles?”

“Care packages. Moving costs. Lawyer costs. Erasing data,” Stiles added, wiggling his fingers. “Getting blown in the car by Derek.”

This time Lydia glared at him. “He said it first!” Stiles protested, but he continued to wilt under her fearsome gaze.

Both of them were dismissed with a roll of Lydia’s eyes. “That’s all for now. Derek, I’ll contact you when the papers have been served. Don’t talk to the police without me present.” She stood up, heels clicking on the floor. “Good day, gentlemen. I have work to do.” She reached out her hand to shake Derek’s hand, then Stiles’s, and then she sat down, going back to work and let the men show themselves out of her office.

 

***

 

Stiles led them down somewhere on the 10th floor, following signs to a room marked “ZZZ”. Derek figured it was a place to rest since neither of them particularly wanted to go home. Derek didn’t want to leave Stiles’s company right now and explain everything to Erica. He had a feeling Stiles didn’t want to be alone after what had transpired, either. Or maybe Stiles didn’t want to leave Derek alone, now that he knew he had a stalker.

It’d be good to try and lighten the mood, Derek decided. “Miss Martin is scary,” Derek muttered petulantly, thinking over the rules he’d have to follow.

Stiles seemed to be thinking over the rules as well, but he followed Derek’s words. “I know it,” he agreed lightly. “But the best.”  They continued in silence, thinking about their situation before Stiles jumped up, pointing at a door. “There’s a napping lounge,” he announced. “For napping. Great napping. Epic napping. I was gonna take a nap. Wanna join me there?”

Glad that Stiles felt as out of sorts as he did, Derek nodded, content to let Stiles continue to ramble on about  jet lag or something, Derek didn’t care. As he processed through the information, the reality of the situation hit him. He had another option in this. He didn’t have to submit, didn’t have to roll over and obey Deucalion, and he didn’t have to lose Stiles.

He felt lighter than air.

Stiles opened the room and turned on the lights, showing a bunch of sofas and strange cubes that looked like business class airline; reclining seats with hoods in order to relax. “There’s really nobody here,” he stated in surprise. “I tell them to take the day off, but they always show up when I’m here. Brown nosers." He looked around the room as if trying to find a place to go. As if they needed to go somewhere.

All Derek needed right now was to be close to Stiles, as much as it pained him. He felt weak right now, like he’d give in and try not to be a bother. It helped to hear Stiles comfort him, to reassure him it was all right. So his feet moved forward, seeing that comfort, hands wrapping around Stiles’s waist in the empty room and his nose pressed against Stiles’s neck, inhaling a familiar and calming sent.

Stiles jumped a little. “Hey, there, creepy stalker guy,” he joked, hand going back and ruffling through Derek’s hair. He seemed to understand Derek’s vulnerability, for his voice dropped, a lot more comforting and serious than it normally was. “Do you wanna go through with this?” Stiles asked.

Derek’s heart skipped a beat, but Stiles continued speaking. “I mean, we can break up and just have appearances if…”

It wasn’t about Deucalion at all. It was about his business, about Derek having the relationship be a choice. He felt like crying for a moment. “I want to,” he murmured into warm skin. “I just don’t know what you get out of it.” He pressed a soft kiss to the back of Stiles’s neck to steady himself.

Stiles chuckled, hands tightening around Derek’s hair. “Ah, man, Derek, are you _that_ dense? I’ve gotten a lot out of this. Like, confidence. I can now go through those parties without getting wasted, because I don’t wanna see your eyebrow judgement.” His hand traced Derek’s eyebrows. “It’s nice to have someone to impress, too. And I…” His voice trailed off as Derek wrapped his hands around him. “I like taking care of people. I like supporting people. It’s a thing.” He turned around, looking into Derek’s eyes.

Honesty covered every inch of his face. Stiles did like taking care of people.

Before Derek could respond, however, Stiles leaned up and pressed a quick kiss against his mouth. “Derek,” he asked quietly. “Let me take care of you for as long as you need me, okay?”

Almost hopelessly, Derek nodded. He kissed back into Stiles’s mouth, his hands a bit more desperate than he intended. But Stiles wrapped around him, cradling him, and Derek could believe he’d want for nothing with Stiles as his partner. Given his life, he might need Stiles forever, if only for emotional support.

That was okay, he thought. He could trust Stiles.

He _did_ trust Stiles.

“Okay,” he agreed.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double-update day!

One Year Later

 

Images of the TV flashed across Stiles’s sleeping face as Derek stepped back from the shower. He noted it was one of those gossip shows, showing clips of news reports. Why Stiles had fallen asleep watching this garbage Derek had no idea, but he turned up the volume a little louder as he started to sort through the pizzas Stiles had ordered.

Their relationship had changed, perhaps for the better, over these past couple of months. They were seen in public and neither of them had shame fucking in public, either. The press ate up their relationship like starving dogs, loving every moment of it. Perhaps the only ones who liked the relationship better than the press were Stiles and Derek themselves, Derek wondered, looking over Stiles’s sleeping form.

“Deucalion,” the TV gossip host announced, and Derek turned to the TV, listening as the announcer told him what he’d known at 2:41pm today. “Has been imprisoned for possession of child pornography. He was sentenced today, and will serve at least 15 years at…”

Derek tuned out. He hadn’t been in the courtroom, of course. He’d been called to give a witness statement, about how old he was, and Deucalion sat glaring at his general direction. But ever the gentleman, he just sat as Derek gave the entire story, explaining that he and Deucalion hooked up and Deucalion had gotten attached.

If he omitted the part where Deucalion paid him, well, only he, Lydia, Erica and Stiles knew. And Deucalion wasn’t foolish enough to speak and shout it to the courtroom. Nobody would believe a suspected pedophile, and certainly his image would be shattered the moment the moment he disrupted court. So Deucalion stayed silent. Even if he hadn’t jacked off to the video, he had a pornographic video of a child, and that couldn’t be denied.

The judge had gone easier on him; rather than several different minors, Deucalion had taken all the pictures and videos of one particular minor. So the judge had given Deucalion a restraining order as well, and Derek’s identity was being kept secret, though there were plenty of rumors.

Though Stiles couldn’t go with Derek to the courtroom, they kept close with their phones, Stiles sending him little messages and encouragements. Each night Derek went back to Stiles’s apartment and just cuddled in his arms. Stiles cuddled back, pleased he could offer some form of comfort that wasn’t related to money.

The TV shut off with a blip. “You lived that. No need to re-live it,” Stiles murmured from the hotel bed, leaning over to where Derek sat next to him. “You find the pizza?”

“Of course I did,” Derek replied, pointing to the table covered in pizza boxes. He opened a box and grabbed a slice. “Takes me back. It’s the best in Beacon Hills.”

Stiles turned over, draping his hand across Derek’s torso. “Your favorite comfort food,” he uttered. He also took a slice and chewed, watching as Derek set down half of his slice. “You’re that nervous about tomorrows, baby?” He used Derek’s body as leverage in order to lift himself upright, coming face to face with his partner.

Derek shrugged, knowing Stiles could read through it anyway. Old habits died hard. “And you’re exhausted, working yourself to the bone in order to have a couple days off for this.” He set his own pizza down on the boxes.

“And you’re nervous about it,” Stiles countered. “Guess that makes us a couple of idiots then, doesn’t it?” He leaned into Derek’s neck, nuzzling just a bit. “You smell nice. Clean.”

Looking at his naked and wet form, Derek sighed. “Of course I do,” Derek replied, picking Stiles up and settling in his lap. Stiles squawked indignantly until Derek shook his head. “No. There’s only three things you want when you’re like this. Don’t pretend otherwise.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow at Derek’s statement. “Oh?” He asked, smirking. He moved his chest closer to Derek’s, resting his head on Derek’s shoulder. Normally this would entice Derek for a minute or ten, but not right now. “Go ahead and tell me the answers, young padawan. Show me what you’ve learned.”

Derek shifted, moving them around on the bed. Stiles grinned, giddy with the display of strength. “Star wars references, for one,” Derek responded, maneuvering Stiles’s legs so they were around him. “Sleep,” Derek continued, motioning the bed. “Food.” He pointed to the pizza waiting on the table.

“And?” Stiles asked, a dangerous glint in his eye. His face screamed pleased, pulling back just enough to watch Derek either succeed or fail. Stiles would be happy either way.

Derek would be happy either way, he knew. He reached into Stiles’s pocket to prove his final point and pulled out lube, flicking the case open as his wordless final answer.

Not even shy or upset about it, Stiles grinned. “Maybe I haven’t prepped, huh?” He wiggled his hips a bit, trying to tease a reaction out of Derek. Alas, the longer Stiles tried, the better Derek became at hiding his reaction. Thus a vicious cycle had begun.

Derek sighed and quickly stuck his hands into Stiles’s pants, feeling for underwear. Finding none, he shrugged. “I’m going to guess that you _have_ prepped.”

Stiles frowned. “This is a no-contact sport, Derek,” he complained. “That’s cheating.”

Derek pinched his lips together as his hand ran to the front of Stiles’s pants. “No contact? I was pretty sure this sport is _all_ about physical contact.” He slid his hand lower, feeling the rough trace of public hair before feeling the familiar smooth skin of Stiles’s dick, coaxing it to hardness.

Stiles groaned, hips thrusting upward a little. “Definitely cheating,” he decided, his hands coming to rest on Derek’s biceps. “No fair, dude. I wanted to-“

“Hmm?” Derek asked in his ear, hand moving to fondle Stiles’s balls. “Speak up.”

His hand continued rubbing, back and forth. “Total cheating,” Stiles groaned, pants escaping his mouth. For his revenge he fell forward again on Derek’s shoulder, nibbling enough on Derek’s neck to leave several marks. “I wanna fuck in front of the window,” he announced. “I want everyone to see us.”

 _Of course he does_ , Derek thought, but he wasn’t at all averse to the idea.

 

***

 

Fucking by a window meant it was difficult to see Stiles’s reflection without getting hard or picturing how beautifully Stiles cried out while Derek fucked into him. It didn’t matter where, either. Not when they were in a mirror, not when they were in front of a clothing store for turtles, and not when they were towards the preserve. Though he’d often thought about road head, Derek didn’t want to risk it, not when he was giving directions to the driver. “Turn right here,” he instructed.

Stiles turned the wheel of the car smoothly, following the line of trees. They sat in silence, tension building as Derek thought about what lay at the end of this road. It was okay to be nervous, he allowed himself. It was-

“So I have a question,” Stiles interrupted.

Derek nodded at him to go ahead. Even if he hadn’t, he knew Stiles would go ahead anyway. “We’ve been dating for a a little more than a year now, yeah?” Stiles continued, his fingers drumming nervously on the steering wheel. Derek glared at them but didn’t expect Stiles to stop. Nothing could make Stiles stop drumming his fingertips on things. Not even blowjobs.

“We have,” Derek answered, thinking back on their relationship. Now that the trial was done their relationship felt a bit unsteady. They both knew they’d stay until the trial was over, but now it was uncertain.

Derek didn’t know what Stiles might want with him after this. The most Derek could have brought Stiles was sex, and it turned out Stiles was equally gifted in that area, despite his slow life start. Stiles brought all sorts of things to Derek’s life, but Derek… well, he could understand if Stiles wanted to end things. And better to tell him now than later.

“You’re my boyfriend, right?”

“I’d like to be,” Derek allowed, hoping Stiles would put the pieces together and not force Derek to say it. “Sugar baby, boyfriend, whatever you’ll have.”

Stiles smiled at that. “So long as you’re by my side, huh?” He paused as he followed the road and turned a sharp left. “So does that mean I can keep giving you gifts and money and things?” He looked over at Derek. “We’ve stopped a bit since the trial, but I’d like to give my boyfriend gifts, too.” He reached over to pat Derek’s thigh.

Relief flooded Derek. Stiles didn’t want to break up with him. He wanted to continue to spoil him. There hadn’t been much time since Derek was busy with the trial, but now they had ample free time. Trying not to show how affected he was, he answered. “Only if you’re okay with me continuing my college this fall.”

Stiles frowned. “Am I paying for that?” he wondered out loud.

“You bet,” Derek answered teasingly, watching as his house came into view. It loomed closer and closer at him, and Derek could tell if he was comforted or if he was going to break into a run. He’d run from this house twice already. A third time wouldn’t be difficult. Hell, he had a car this time, even.

Stiles effortlessly pulled the car into the driveway and parked the car, acting like he didn’t have a care in the world. Derek still remained tense, even as Stiles pulled off his seat belt. “Time to get out, baby,” Stiles announced, leaning over and kissing Derek lightly on the cheek, hands unbuckling him.

He pulled back, waiting for Derek to open the door. Damn it. There went Derek’s plan of scooting into the driver’s seat and driving away, leaving Stiles and his family to meet themselves without him there. Grudgingly he opened the door, watching it swing open for him. It felt too wide.

Derek swallowed as he stepped onto the new pavement; it was strange and not like his memories. The house had changed; now a brighter shade of brown instead of the dark color it had been before. Several cars were parked in front of the garage, the normal amount of dirt and pollution covering their hoods. As he looked back at the house, he could see his mother on the other side of the front door, her head peering out and looking at them. She looked just as nervous as he was, but she was probably collecting herself even now.

He closed the car door, looking helplessly at Stiles.

“It’ll be fine,” Stiles assured him, stepping out of the car himself, closing the door and locking it. “Come on.” He rounded the car and walked up to him, taking Derek’s hand in his own. He gave Derek a gentle squeeze. “It’ll be fine, Derek.”

It would be fine. Maybe more than fine. Maybe for the first time in Derek’s life things would be more than fine, more than controlled; maybe he would be able to enjoy himself and work on fixing himself; maybe he would be able to laugh and cuddle and breathe. He felt his breath leave him as he pictured Stiles by his side in the future, doting and protecting him as Derek did the same in his own way.

Derek squeezed back, taking a strong step forward.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been an amazing time! Thanks for sticking with me. 
> 
> I've learned a lot through this fic, especially about character development and motivation during chapter seven. I want to thank everyone who commented on this fic from the bottom of my heart- there were critical comments and noncritical ones, but all of them were constructive and kind. Thank you so much for all of them.
> 
> I have plans for more fics in the future, but a couple of one-shots first, I think. If I do another WIP I'll wait until it's complete to post it! 
> 
>  
> 
> As always, you can find me at deltaimmortal.tumblr.com.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow updates and progress on all my fics (or just ask me questions, I like those) at http://deltaimmortal.tumblr.com!


End file.
